


Behind all the Drinks and Drugs.

by Kitkat5436



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drug Use, F/M, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Gay, Guns, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jim Moriarty in Sherlock's Mind Palace, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Minor Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Minor Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Oral Sex, Past Violence, Richard Brook is Jim Moriarty, Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Teen Sherlock, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkat5436/pseuds/Kitkat5436
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have been forced to live with their child minder, Mrs Hudson, for the remainder of High School administration. Having to leave home, abusive father, mother who works too much and having enemies everywhere, Sherlock finds their is no hope of recovering from his painful past. That is, until he meets John Watson. He turns his world upside down and makes him feel things his brain cannot comprehend. Throughout their friendship they embark on adventures together of mystery and deductions. However, will John be able to cope with Sherlock's 'bad habits', secrets and near death experiences with enemies or will he give up hope on him and leave?





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> This is the chapter where Sherlock explains things from the beginning but, the next will be a few weeks or months into the future of staying at 221b Baker street. It only introduces some of the characters involved and in the next chapter I will introduce more of the characters.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _Shut up!_ My hand slams itself on the alarm clock snooze button. I can hear Mycroft on the bunk bed above me shuffling around clearly just waking up. A loud moan follows after the shuffling stops.

"Come on, brother dear, we can't be late for the first day of school." He yawns, climbing down the ladder and jumping on the floor. I let out a big sigh and groan.

"I don't want to go to school. It's boring and useless. Can I just stay here and miss it?" I stuff my face into my pillow and shut my eyes. However, before I can settle down I feel my brother grab my sheets off my back, allowing the cold, morning air to hit my back. Goosebumps wave over my body, faster than the common cold spreads, even from under my night clothes it's freezing cold.

"You are going to school, Sherlock." Mycroft says sternly, throwing the sheets to the floor. This is the kind of things Mycroft does to piss me off. I get up out of bed and look him dead in the eyes.

"Give me back my sheet." I growl, I'm not in the mood for this, this morning for something this stupid.

"Get dressed for school, then." He just doesn't quit, does he?

"Give. Me. My. Sheet."

"Get. Dressed. For. School." That's it I'm not taking this anymore. I walk over to Mycroft and grab part of the sheet. He tugs the sheet away from me and I tug it back.

"Give it!" I shout, pulling it towards me. He hugs it back to his chest and shouts back at me.

"Not until you get dressed for school!" I push him back to get him away from it however, he comes towards me and pushes me on my bed. There's no way I can beat him unless, he's off his guard- which he obviously isn't. He pins me on my bed, he holds my arms above my head and his legs are pushing mine on my bed. I try to struggle out of his grip yet, my attempts are useless as he has a much stronger grip on me than I assumed. A crooked grin is on his face and he chuckles under his breath. "Look at you~, a little child, who can't even fight his brother. You were always the weaker one~~." His voice is soft yet, feels like an out of tune violin played by a person who doesn't know how to play. I show my teeth at him but, then I realize as I look at him more clearer, he has lost 2 pounds since I examined him last. Soft point, self conscious of his weight so, he tries losing it. Probably because I'm so thin and spindly and the children at the hell that manipulates children's brains, called school, are commenting about him. In my personal opinion he is quit fit and healthy and his weight shouldn't be an issue however, I will not lose against my brother. 

I put a smile on my face, as mischievous as I can. As my brother did, I start laughing as well.

"I don't think it's because I'm weak, brother dear~" I coo.

"What is it then? Why're you laughing?" He asks, stopping giggling.

"Well, I think someone is slightly heavy and is trying to start a diet~. Is that correct, brother dear?" I look at his face, I can tell he is taken aback by the remark as he has 'hurt' written all over his face. His grip loosens but, doesn't go completely and still manages to pin me. The look in his eyes looks distant and fuzzy, yet his eye contact with me stays connected and sharp. He and I stay like that for 1 minute and 23 seconds, as I have calculated, until he blinks and takes in a deep breath. "Welcome back, brother. How was your trip to, what is it called, Mind Land?"

"Sherlock, get dressed for school." he says sternly.

"Make me!" I shout. Mycroft takes a sharp inhale and exhales slowly. He rubs his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why're you so stubborn, Sherlock? It's just school, you have to go, as do I." Mycroft sighs. 

"You know what happened in middle school, Mycroft. You wouldn't understand what he can do..." Just thinking of what happened makes me feel queasy, it never happened to my brother, he was never bullied. He builds reputations and a social standing and yet, keeps people distant, like they don't mean anything to him. However, me, on the other hand, I don't want people to get too close to me, I have the odd person here and there, who I actually like but, even then, I keep them distant. People are difficult, too much work and effort and... pain. I prefer being alone. Mother and father think I have something wrong with me because of my constant distant attitude to them and sadness and therefore, sends to me therapy. I want to leave but, they say 'It's for the best, Sherlock.' Some days I like going there, other days I don't, it all depends. I go there once every 3 weeks so, not too often.

Mycroft lets out a sigh of frustration and grabs a small pile of clothes, folded into a square shape. He throws them into my arms and grabs another pile of clothes.

"Your uniform, Sherlock. Do you know what school we're attending or did you not listen?" He clearly ignored my comment before and just decided to change the subject. I can tell he is uncomfortable talking about it, maybe it affected him more than I thought?

"Of course I listened, Mycroft... I just deleted it from my hard drive." I smile at him, looking up from the uniform. It's a white shirt, black trousers with a pocket on both the left leg and right legs, a pair of white socks and finally and tie. It has white stripes over a dark navy back ground; around the outskirt of the white stripes there's light blue surrounding them.

I see Mycroft roll his eyes at my comment.

"We are attending Baker Street High School. It's a public school located by where our childminders' house is." Mycroft takes his night shirt off and drapes it over the desk chair and slips his shirt on.

"Ah, yes, Mrs Hudson." I copy him and slip my night shirt off to replace it with the shirt.

"Yes, her. Turns out we'll be staying with her while we attend the school because of how far it is away from our house. We couldn't go to any other school as there are non close by so, Baker Street Middle is the closest. We have to arrive there at school by 8:30am." I check the alarm clock, IT'S BLOODY 6:37 am!

"So, you set the alarm for... 6 o'clock?!" I huff pulling up my trousers.

"Naturally. We have to pack some clothes and essentials so, we are ready to go to stay with... uh... Mrs Hulson?" 

"Mrs Hudson. Honestly, Mycroft, I thought I was bad at names." I laugh trying to tie my tie up, how do I do this again, over, over, over, over, up... no, it's under, over... no... uhh.

"I maybe bad at names, brother dear, but, you are terrible at tying things. Let me help you." He laughs back at me. "Also, do not forget your hankie, don't want you going out your classes to get tissue." He says, taking a hand off my tie, taking out a hankie from his pocket, relocating it into my pocket. I mumble under my breath, cursing him.

".... Fine, but, we're not doing this when we're at, Mrs Hudson's house. Speaking of, will there be any other children there? Last time, there was a girl who went there but, stopped because she was over sensitive..." He looks up at me and breaths out a laugh.

"I don't think it's being sensitive if someone tells you they will never like them and that they repel you  _and_ that their dad is cheating on their mum. Aaaaaaand... done" The smiling man steps up and straightens his own shirt and tie to make it look presentable.

"Yes it is, if she can't handle it then, she is too sensitive for her own good. Blazer?" I keep 2 conversations at once to save time.

"Not necessarily, little brother. Closet, hanging up. Yours is the 15-16, mine is the 16-17." I walk over to the closet and grab my blazer, I look at the navy coloured jacket; it has a picture of a white outlined plaque with the name Baker Street High School in bold bright blue letters on a pocket on the left hand side. I slip it on and button it up, like the trousers there are two pockets on both the left and right side. "Does it fit properly, littler brother?" Mycroft asks looking in the mirror next to me, sorting his hair out.

"Yes, it looks alright. What's the time?" I see Mycroft check his watch and go back to sorting his hair out.

"6:49. We should get our things ready, just pack the essentials and anything you want to occupy you. This includes school bag, books, pencil case etc." He lists monotonously. I let out a long groan and move my fingers and my thumb up and down mockingly.

"Yes, Mummy." I walk off before he can say anything back. 

After 10 minutes of getting my essentials together, I go to find Mycroft. I find him in the kitchen, sitting at the table eating Cornflakes.

"I've made you some as well, it's on the counter." He doesn't bother looking up at me. I walk over to the kitchen counter sighing. Lazy bugger, couldn't be arsed to put milk in it. Walking over to the fridge, I notice a florescent post-it note stuck on top of a picture of me and Mycroft at our primary school. It's written in neat cursive handwriting, clearly by our Mother. I read it, hand gripped on the fridge handle.

 

_Dearest Sherlock and Mycroft,_

_I hope you enjoy your new school and staying with Mrs. Hudson for a while. As you may have noticed, your Father and I aren't here, a meeting has come up and I am needed immediately and your Father is at work as usual. I'm so sorry we couldn't say goodbye to both of you, I love you two very much. Mycroft I left some of the brownies you like, I made them myself. Sherlock, I bought you a pack of Ginger Nuts, you keep bugging me to get them so, I have for this very occasion._ _  
_

_Mycroft, look after Sherlock, make sure he doesn't do any of his 'bad habits' while you're away. Sherlock, stay out of trouble, please, find some friends, make human contact with people, do something that'll help you be more happy._ _  
_

_See you on Christmas, love Mummy and Father xx  
_

I cringe at the note and open the fridge with disgust. After I poured the milk into the bowl of cereal, I return it back to the fridge, ripping the post-it off it and returned with it and the bowl back to the table. 

"I see you've read the note?" Mycroft responded, as I scoffed.

"Why do you keep obeying them, Mycroft?" 

"They are our parents, Sherlock. They love us. Why do you keep disobeying them, Sherlock?" He rolls his eyes.

"Are you seriously this dense?!" I take in a deep breath to calm myself down and whisper 'ok' under my breath. "Unbutton your shirt, Mycroft..." I say calmly. 

"Excuse me?" He chokes on his cereal slightly and looks at me peeved, wiping a splatter of milk off his chin with a napkin.

"Did I stutter, big brother? Unbutton. Your. Shirt." I repeat sternly. He just looks at me in complete confusion until, a wave of awareness hits him. His body tenses up at the acknowledgment of what I was trying to say. We sit in silence for a short amount of time until, Mycroft croaks something out.

"He doesn't mean to... he loves us..." I can't anymore, I snap and stand up from my chair.

"Mycroft! Open up your eyes! Mother doesn't give a shit about us! She says she does but, in reality she's scared, she's a coward, she's isn't bothered! Father! Oh, don't even get me started on _him_! He hurts us, Mycroft! Not out of love, not because he 'accidentally' punches us, pulls a knife out on us, strangles us, lashes us with his belt, burns us with his cigarettes! He purposely does it! You are such an idiot!" My breathing is heavy and rapid, my pulse is racing, my vision is fuzzy almost, blurred. Everything comes into focus and I can see my bother sitting back and just staring me, with a bored expression.

"Are you quite done, Little Brother?" I sigh, rubbing my eyes as I return back into my chair. "Good. Listen, Sherlock, I understand your concern but, you know we don't have a say because you know what happens if you are to say anything. In fact, you know that punishment very well.

"...don't remind me..." I shiver just thinking about it.

"Little brother, stop thinking about these things. I'm fine, you're fine, Mother's fine, Father's fine. We're all fine." 

"We're not fine, you say we are but, we're not. Our family is broken, our lives are corrupted.

"All humans are corrupted, Sherlock, we are no exception." He takes a mouthful of cereal and munches on it. I stay silent, he isn't wrong, all humans are like a virus with no cure. We eat in silence for the remainder of breakfast, we eat our cereal and drink our juice. The time is now 7:39 am, which means if we want to get to Baker Street in time we must leave now. Mycroft had already arranged for a cab to come get us. Taking all of our belongings with us, we load the cab, get in and we set off. I take my phone out my pocket and play some games and go on Instagram for a while. Mycroft, however, sits with his eyes closed; clearly thinking. I turn my phone off and look at him.

"What are you thinking about, Mycroft?" I ask without notice. He hums and still sits still, I roll my head back in boredom until, an idea springs to mind. "Wanna play a game, Brother?" I purr. Now that attracts his attention.

"What game, Brother Dearest?" He replies. Mycroft loves games, he always has but, not the normal games, he enjoys  _our_ games.

"How about deductions?" I smile. "A pound bets I can win~." A large grin on my face forms as does one on his face. 

"Deal!" He shouts enthusiastically. "Cab driver, lets go, ladies first~." I groan however, take my opportunity to go first.

"Wrinkled face, clearly in his 40's. Bags under his eyes, lack of sleep, not driving, however, because he doesn't look stressed. So, must be because his sex life is good, different women or men though, even though he's married to a female, because his wedding ring is in the cup holder therefore picks up people who call the cab. Your turn."

"Not 'or', Little Brother, 'and' is correct; he likes both men and women, bisexual. Smoker, fingers are coloured orange from where he holds it, as are his lips. Has 3 grand children, 2 children of is own however, 1 now, the other died. Hates his job so, he takes his chance to get with people. Clearly, his relationship with his wife is bad. Yes, wife, picture of woman in a photo on his car keys, not daughter, too old, too new, daughter was the one who died any way so, he has a son. Your turn."

"No he has a husband, clearly. In that picture you see, that is his sister, not wife. Why would he have a picture of his wife on his keys if he wants to get with other people? Also, if you looked at his right ring finger, the finger, some, gay couples have their ring on, it is slightly lighter tone than the rest of his hand. Children were adopted. Your turn.

"No, no, no, female companion." He replies tutting.

"No, male." I snap.

"Female." Agitation showing in his voice.

"Male!" I shout. It carries on like that for the rest of the journey, us two arguing on his partner. However, we finally get to Baker Street and there, it is time to get out. We disperse out the cab but, before I go to the house door, I return to the cab and ask:

"Hello, sir, could you help me with something just a bit, it shan't take long." I plead.

" 'aight, kid. What'd you want?" 

"I think I'm gay but, I was just wondering do you have any experience with other men?"

"Why're ya askin' me, kid?" He blushes slightly yet, it's not enough evidence. I hear Mycroft coming up slightly behind me but stops to keep his distance.

"Because my brother won't accept me and my family is extremely homophobic please, just tell me if you're not gay. I thought you were by the way you wear your ring on your right ring finger and your adoption of 2 children which was halved some time ago." I say. He just looks at me, with a look of horror in his eyes. "My condolences as well to you and your husband and to the other amount of people who's trousers you have unbuckled and skirts you have taken off." He doesn't say a word, he just stares until, finally he utters something under his breath.

"W-who are y-you and- and why have you been f-f-following me and my husband?" He stutters. I smile with satisfaction with his answer.

"Don't worry, good sir, thank you for your time." I thank as his phone starts beeping from another call. "You better get that, sir, you have a business to run here wouldn't want your boss or, worst, your husband to have... _speculations."_ I smile. "Goodbye." I sing leaving the car and grabbing my things. Walking past Mycroft to get to the front door I say:

"Husband." 

* * *

7:54 am is the time. We've already gone into the building and Mrs Hudson is on the second floor where we shall be sleeping however, we have separate rooms. There is a living room as we walk into the flat and to the left there is a kitchen and to the side, a corridor that leads to the rooms and toilet. I sit down on the sofa for a bit, upside down. It's so boring already, I'm going to die of boredom! Mycroft is sitting on the other sofa reading the news paper.

"Have you boys eaten yet?" The older woman asks from the kitchen.  

"Yes, we've eaten." Mycroft replies for us both as he knows I will not respond.

"That's good. You'll be going to school in a minute so, be ready you two." She says. "Oh! I almost forgot! There will be another child here the same time as you two, he has just started staying here because his Father is a doctor in the military and at the moment he is in Afghanistan fighting in the war as a medic. So, he is staying here, he will be coming here after school. If you two want to find him at school his name is John Watson. He knows about you two so, maybe he'll find you first." She chuckles. I am intrigued, a soldiers son?

"What is his age?" I enquire.

"I think he's 16." She replies. Marvellous however, who would want to have a friend like me? 

* * *

Mycroft and I arrive at Baker Street High however, we are early so, we have to stay inside the gates until the time is 8:30; at the moment it is 8:10. We are sitting on the benches together, I -with my legs crossed- and him -on his phone- texting someone. I close my eyes and my mind begins to whizz about like hundreds of bees in a swarm. Yet, one thought stops in my mind... John Watson. I suppose he wont be hard to spot, he'll probably be taking similar subjects as me. I assume he will take double science, Health and social care and biology or, maybe Physics. On the other hand, Biology is more likely. I'm taking double science, French and Chemistry. So, we will be in double science together maybe, he'll be in my English class together and maths. Wait- wait, why do I care? It's not like he'll like me anyway, he might even bother finding us. Every kid I've ever met has hated me, to the point where- no I'm not going to think about that. 

Before I can further, I feel an organism in front of me, a weird presence blocking out the sun that was there before. My brother must've left because I can't smell his cologne. I take in some air to see if I can smell a familiar fragrance. A tang smell reaches my nostrils, a cheap after shave yet, smells strong like a zesty lemon with a strong alcoholic taste. Yet, another smell intervenes, mint. Chewing gum, mint. This- this smell is familiar, this smell is but a distant memory that has come back to haunt me. This is the smell of the devil. This is the smell of evil in its purest form. I open my eyes slowly, revealing the person in front of me. This is the smell of non other than... Jim Moriarty. 

He has a lad behind him, a strong one at that. Parents dead, works for Moriarty (clearly), body guard, same age as me, brain issues, crooked eye, slight limp; nothing serious. 

"Hi~~. Fancy seeing you here, Sherly." The well dressed boy cooed. I stay silent. "Oh? Is little, Sherlock nervous? Did you miss me, while I was gone?" I cough, clearing my throat, standing up. Analysing the guard and where his organs are placed I try a figure out a plan of action. Distract Moriarty, strike legs to trip him up, gives me time to take out the guard. He would start attacking, lunges forward, _Hit head, strike stomach, not too much damage, only discombobulate. It should give me enough time to escape, they would come after me, though. I should take out one of his legs as well, giving me at least 30 seconds head start. The main office is to the right, if I hide behind the wall I can lose them. Probability of success, 88.74% chance. A chance I have to take. Wait for the right time._

"May I enquire why you are here?" I ask.

"Well, if you must know my friend here wasn't too happy in middle school when you damaged him so, he wanted revenge and obviously I didn't want to miss the opportunity to see my loyal play thing so, I'm here to even things out between us, call it a token of my affection." His Irish accent rolls off his tongue like a python. I look him over, there is something in his trouser pocket.

"Is that a pocket knife you've got there, or are you just happy to see me?" I ask playfully serious.

"Guilty~~!" He shouts. "It's both. Was it that noticeable?"

"Too, noticeable..." I squint at the thought however, I just take a deep breath in. "Well, this has been fun and all but, I have class in..." I check my watch. " ...10 minutes, so I better be off. _So, nice seeing you again._ Really, it is. Now, without further a due, see. You. Later~." I salute, walking away to my left but, to be stopped by the strong looking boy stops me.

"Sorry, Sherlock! I promised him I could let him do whatever he wants when we arrive so, I think if you just sit through this one, it'll go aloooot quicker." He smiled. I scowl, looking down.

"Sorry but, I'll have to decline!" I shout, plan of action a go. Take out Moriarty, hankie could come in use. I put my hand into my pocket drawing out my hankie, I run over to Moriarty and throw it in his face. He stumbles back and I take my chance to swipe my leg across his knees, tripping him up. The other boy runs at me from behind, I quickly dodge him and curve around him. He turns around confused, my two hands fly up hitting him both side of his head on his temples. He throws his hands to his head in agony and I take my chance to attack his stomach. Then, he curves his back, closing his body together, bending his knees. I then push him back, tripping him up falling over Moriarty as he gets back up again, he is taken down once again by the gigantic lump. I run for dear life away from the two, dumbfounded boys and make my way out the gates. The path leading to the main office isn't too far away so, I stick to my plan of running there. I reach the wall and run through the open gated entrance. Without looking, I instinctively grab something and turn the corner holding it tightly against my body.

* * *

I can't believe I'm standing outside of Baker Street High. It's a public school but, their ratings from Ofsted are brilliant! My Sister said I wouldn't get in, but look at me now! John Watson, in the prestigious, notorious, Baker Street High! The uniform looks great, navy jumper; silk shirt; red and green tie; comfortable black, cotton trousers and (to top it of) leather, black, shoes. The main gate is so, large and mysterious and-

"Whoa! What the hel- mphmmm?!" I've just been grabbed and shoved against the inside of the school wall, they're behind me and they've put their hand over my mouth, holding me so I can't move.

"Shhhhh... be quiet you imbecile... if you don't shut the fuck up, you'll die, ok?" They whispers. Are they going to... kill me? Why me, I've done nothing wrong?! I can hear voices, children's voices, my age.

"Where is he!?" One shouts. Their voice is deep and mellow, a strong British voice.

"I dunno'. Maybe he's gone to the park." The other voice is lighter and there's a tint of Irish leaking through when they say I's and R's. There are rapid footsteps following his comment and they start fading away. So, this person's a male. He looks around the corner and sighs heavily, removing his grip round my body and mouth. I can feel my cheeks going red because of his grip on my body, I don't know whether it's because I'm angry or because of something else ... no just angry... just angry. I throw myself away from him and put my hands up, breathing rapidly. He's just straightening his jumper out. He notices his tie is undone and starts trying doing it up again.

"... W-what-what the _hell_ just happened?!" I pant, looking at the oddly calm boy.

"Do you ever stop talking, Mr. Watson?" Hold up!

"How- how do you know my name?" He rolls his eyes at my comment and carries on, attempting, to tie his tie up.

"Don't worry about what just happened, you're in the clear because I helped you."

"Helped me- helped me from who?"

"Non of your business. All that you need to know is that you're safe. Your welcome, Mr. Watson." 

"Ok. Ok. I'm done with being nice. How the _fuck_ do you know my name?!" I snap, walking toward him until, I'm face to face with him. Well, chin to face, he's slightly taller which doesn't make me look intimidating to him at all. He sighs.

"Right. I know your name is John Hamish Watson and you're in year 10, so my year. You're Father is a doctor and your Mother is dead. You've transferred here from your old school from Liverpool because you're Father's work area has been transferred here. You have a brother who's older than you by 2 years and he has recently broken up with his girlfriend, probably because he's a smoker, druggy and drinker. You're happy you've moved because you get to go to this school and you've heard the ratings. You are happy to have moved from your own school because you were, obviously, bullied badly. You don't care much for opinions from other people however, you still try to impress. You don't sleep well, probably because of a  _traumatic_ event. Brother doesn't care about your bullying problem because he's too busy getting high, drinking, smoking for fun and after having sex with hookers, which was actually the reason his girlfriend broke up with him, she considered it before but, she walked into his room and found him in bed with a hooker riding him. Father doesn't care either, too busy with work. Ahh, so that's the traumatic event... Mother dying in front of you. Do you want me to go on?" His monotonous gibbering stops for my reply, I shake my head lost for words. "Nah, I'm almost at the end anyway, your father has now flew to Afghanistan as an army doctor and he couldn't afford to move again so, he's decided to leave you with a childminder called Mrs Hudson and you are going to be staying there for quite some time as well because, clearly, your Father doesn't trust you to be with your brother. There, now, I'm finished." He says finally. Had he been rehearsing it?! Has he been stalking me?! 

"I assure you, Mr. Watson, I haven't been 'stalking' you. Mere observation, that's all it is." He says in a plain tone.

"... 'Mere... observation'? Seriously, _that_ was a _mere observation_!" 

"Sorry, was it unclear? I thought I stated it, did I no-" I cut him off.

* * *

_He's annoying why can't he just stop asking so many questions? Yet... compelling...?_

"Sorry was it unclear? I thought I stated it, did I no-"

"Incredible!" He shouts with life in his eyes.  _D-did he just call me 'Incredible'? That's unusual... I've never had such praise like this before... it feels nice._

I cough, taken aback by the remark. 

"R-really?" I stutter slightly, why am I so taken back by a single compliment, by a boy of whom I've just met? Sentiment... it's getting the best of me... calm down... calm down... stay calm.

"Yes, yes it really was. Has anyone told me about you? How did you know any of these things?" He asks, naming list after list of questions.

"I'll answer all later, Watson. It's time for school. We'll speak after school, at Mrs. Hudson's house. Come along!" I start walking and I hear his voice shout behind me.

"Wait- you're gonna' be there too?!" I chuckle to myself, thinking of the possibilities and the potential that is to come of this young man, John Watson. This is going to be so interesting..

 

 


	2. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock introduces his friend to John. John doesn't know who he is but, when Sherlock goes missing for hours on end John gets worried about his whereabouts. However, when he does come back, John isn't ready to see the person he had become.

It has been a month since me and John had attended the same school together and lived in the same house. So far I've met some people, some I can tolerate others, I despise. On my good list I have Molly Hooper, a girl in all of my science classes, she isn't the most good at conversations however, I have no place to talk in that area. Then, I have Lestrade, he's a strong minded fellow, not really at my level of intelligence but, still a good speaker at that, he's in my form room, English class and one of my science classes; Physics. Stamford as well, I don't talk to him often but, he's a good source for information as he's more of a background character who can slip around easily, getting useful information. To finish off the list, there is, of course, John. I've learned a lot about John, not just his past or his everyday routine but, his personality. It is compelling and interesting. His independent vibe, the strong, self assured stance, even though at times he can be very clueless and a fumbling idiot, he could actually come into use some time, some day.

Now onto the bad list. Anderson and Donovan, they hated me by the first day and I them. Turns out they're mine and John's form and in all my science lessons and my chemistry lessons so, that's fun. Obviously, Moriarty is on my bad list however, he's been making friends at school left, right and centre, I have no idea what he's planning so, that's why it's good to have some people to be around school keeping their wit about them.

John and I are at Mrs Hudson's house at the moment, I might as well start calling it our flat. Mycroft had decided he rather sleep down stairs than in the flat, he likes his own personal space so, Mrs Hudson has moved him into another room that is basically like a basement. John is sitting on, now owned by him, an arm chair, he's reading the news paper and he has a cup of tea beside him. I'm on my own arm chair, it's a back leather one, not as insulated as John's but, it's a comfortable chair. We are in complete silence, until footsteps up the stairs disrupt our peace. Mycroft. 

"What is it, brother Dear!" I shout before he can knock on the closed door. It opens and Mycroft enters the room.

"Mrs Hudson says there's someone at the door for you, Sherlock." I get up, I know who this is but, I didn't realise he'd come today.

"Send him up." I sigh, pacing back and forth. Mycroft groans and goes back down the stairs, shutting the door behind him. John looks at me in bewilderment.

"Who is it, Sherlock?"

"No one of you concern, Watson." I grumble. John just shakes his head and goes back to reading his paper. Another set of footsteps come up the stairs, different, unsure and fumbling. That's him. Bill Wiggins. He opens the door and enters, he's a tall kid, same height as me but, he looks scrappy and dirty. He's wearing a grey hoody, dark blue top, grey sweatpants and a pair of whit socks and black trainers, that look battered and worn out.

" 'aright, Shez?" His accent is lacking in formality and he talks in slag quite a lot but, that's natural for him. He goes to our school but, he's mainly in the background and slips around a lot, he's like Stamford but, there is a lot of differences between them two.

"Wiggins. How are you?" I ask stopping pacing.

"All god, mate. Listen, I've got your ord-" I cut him off before he can say anymore.

"How about you and I continue this conversation in my bedroom?" I offer.

"Yeah, sure, Shez." He mumbles, scratching irately at his hand. I see John behind me looking at us in confusion.

"By the way, Wiggins, this is John Watson. John this is Bill Wiggins. Friend of mine." John just nods.

"Nice to meet you, Bill." He replies suspiciously.

"Yeah, yeah, nice to meet ya, mate." Wiggins says dismissing him. We walk away into my bedroom, shutting it and locking it behind us.

* * *

A strange boy has just walked into our flat and my roommate has just locked himself in his room with him. Why does all this set off alarm bells for me? Bill looks like...like... a junkie! A homeless boy. Should I intervene or should I just trust, Sherlock? 

I try and push the event out of my mind and turn back to my news paper, reading the sports section. I drink my tea. I whistle a tune. I turn the pages. Yet, it's still in my mind! I get up and grab my empty cup of tea mug and go to the kitchen to get anther one, turning the kettle on my curiosity runs, what are they doing. It's been half an hour. Fuck it. 

I turn out the kitchen and go down the corridor leading to Sherlock's room door. I put me ear on the door. I hear mumbling, I cant hear their voices fully just some words, then silence. I stay like this for another 10 minutes with no avail of voices. I lose hope of getting anything else but, that's odd. Why would they be sitting in silence for this long? The kettle had boiled long while before so, I turn it on again and make another cup of tea. I return into the lounge and sit in my chair before I sit down my phone buzzes in my pocket, Sherlock. I open the message.

 _'Iv gon owt, dont w8 up 4 me. b bak @ 10 oclok. SH.'_ I reply to the message.

 _'Sherlock, this isn't like you. What's with all the spelling errors, you hate when people are incorrect in grammar, especially over text. Where are you?'_ I wait for a reply, 5 minutes I get one.

 _'ahhhhh dont wory Jonny, Im fin, i m @ somwere idk were bt don wory. am fin. SH'_ This is probably just another one of Sherlock's jokes. He's just a git.

 

I check the time, it's 10:10pm. He's late. God where is he? I pace the floor worriedly, what if something bad happened? What if he's hurt? Why am I getting so worked up about it, this is Sherlock I'm talking about, he'll be fine. Right? After a few more times pacing, I hear the down stairs front door slam shut, this has to be Sherlock! I run out the door and down the stairs to see him. It is him! However, I stop at the top of the stairs before I greet him, there's something off. There's a smell I can't lay my finger on, it smells like tar, like a thick smoke from burning wood but, worse... smoke... tar... hold on. Has he been smoking?! He looks dizzy and like he hasn't an idea where he is or where he's been. 

I walk the rest of the way down the stairs to meet the confused flatmate.

"J-John?" He asks, I can smell a strong scent of alcohol in his breath, he's been drinking as well! 

"Sherlock, what the  _hell_ have you been doing?!" I raise my voice but, then quickly remembering the other people in this house.

"Awwww, John, you jealous I wasn't with youuuuu~~~." The drunk boy drawls. I sigh and shake my head. 

"You're 16 Sherlock. You can't be doing this!" I snap. He flinches as my tone.

"Commonnnnn nghhhhh lets go upsairssss." unimpressed, I help Sherlock up the stairs to the flat. As we get through the door, he becomes lively and runs towards the large sofa and jumps on it. "Let'ssss play, John! I'll be the pirate and youuuuuu, haha, you can be my right-right hand man! Cast the sails, John!" I know this shouldn't be funny in the slightest but, seeing him like this, out of his usual introverted, typical teenage grumpiness, is actually quite amusing. I can't help but laugh a little bit behind my hand. Sherlock jumps off the sofa and lunges towards me, stopping a fraction away from me. He just looks at me in confusion and tilts his head from left to right, looking at me from up to down.

"Sherlock, what're you doing now?" I ask.

"hmmmmm..." He hums in his throat. "John?" 

"Yes, Sherlock." I sigh.

"I want to test something. Hold stiiilll." He commands.

"W-what are you doing?" I demand an answer. He just shushes me and tells me to hold still once again, I do as told and keep still. He curves around me and again, meeting me back into the same stance as he was before. Then he puts a hand on my shoulder, tightening his grip slightly and staring intently at it. He then does the same with his other hand but, this one is on my right, hand, shoulder. His hands slowly drift down my arm, slowly, slowly. I just look at him confused at how intently he's looking at his hands move. My face goes warm as his hands reach mine, he lifts them up to his face height. Shortly, after examining them, he puts my left arm down and keeps my right hand, holding my arm with his left hand. Slowly, his right hand goes up and he intertwines his fingers with mine. His hands are cold and thin but, yet, I like... it, how he holds my hand. My face is clearly red and confused. He looks away from mine and his hands to look at me. God, his eyes look dark even though, his eyes are usually a pale blue, they look distant. To stop myself from getting redder I look away from him at our hands, this must be a dream, what is he doing? This isn't Sherlock. It can't be, he must be really drunk, too drunk, too know what he's doing. I look at his hand when, something catches my eye, his sleeve is slightly rolled up and I can see something, it looks like a cut or scar or something. My curiosity gets the best of me so, I roll his sleeve the rest of the way up. What I see is shocking. I look at him then back down at his arm then, back to him. 

He only just gets my hint of where I'm looking before, he pulls his arm away, jumping back and hogging it like a prised possession. I look pitifully at him, did he do them? I walk to wards him cautiously, trying not to scare him.

"Go away!" He shouts at me. 

"Sherlock... it's ok, I-I just need to know what's happened." 

"No-no it's not ok, it's never ok!"

"Sherlock..." I say calmly. 

"Hm?" He rolls down his sleeve again.

"Did you do that?" I ask gripping at my hand, digging my nails into them.

"Hahaha! You make it sound like I'm gonna' die!" He laughs maniacally. It just makes me angry.

"Answer me, Sherlock." I grit my teeth.

"Hahaha, some of it is me, some of it isn't either way they all belong to me hahaha." He laughs through his tears. His sudden mood swing is almost scary and chilling. To know this boy did some harm to himself, this brilliant minded, boy did this, is painful even towards me.

"Who else hurt you, Sherlock?" This question just makes him laugh more yet, cry more as well.

"Hahahaha you look but you do not observe. Watson, hahaha. Why do you think I'm here? Hahaha, my mother doesn't give a shit about me or my brother hahaha! My Father hits us haha burns us ahaha kicks us, throws us, ahahaha hahahaha and he even uses us as an hahaha ash tray!" So, he and his brother are abused... how do I respond to this? My friend, the person who doesn't care about anyone or anything, who seems like the most strong willed person on this earth, has just proven that he does care about people and things and that even he has weak spots and can be venerable sometimes and all that has just been proven to me by him having too much to drink. 

"Some of these scars they look like they came from a syringe or a pin or something, what are they?" I inquire. He gives a little chuckle.

"Why, these? Well, heh, this is where I help  _numb_ the pain, hehe. Ya know that guy who came in earlier? Wiggins? He is my therapist but, they come at a price if you want to fell better~ hehe." What the hell is he on about?

"What do you mean? I don't understand, Sherlock, explain."

"Have a guess, Watson. Your Father's a doctor, right. And you're taking all the science at school, deduce~~!" 

"I'm not like you, Sherlock, I cannot deduce." 

"You can just, tryyyy, come onnnnn." He wines laughing still. Ok, if I am to find out I have to look. These have been made by a syringe, one is slightly infected and some are fairly new and only just mending, so not done professionally. ' _Numbing pain'..._ what could that mean?

No. No. No.

"You're taking drugs...?" My throat is dry. Please say no, drinking is enough, smoking is a step further across the line, cutting is awful, abuse is horrific, not drugs too... please let me be wrong. His face lights up.

"Ding, ding, ding~~ We have a winnerrrrrr!!" He laughs. How can he say that, with a smile!? Why- how- this cant be happening, my best friend is a drug addict, a smoker, a cutter, a drinker and a genius... how does this make sense?! "Nothing makes sense, Watson..." His voice becomes serious and mellow. "If you only have one conclusion it must be correct, no matter how improbable. Let it sink in, John it's hard, I know. I'm sorry, John." 

"Sherlock..." My vision becomes blurred and glossy, tears roll down my cheeks, my mouth tastes like blood and my face is red hot. Why, Sherlock. How did I not know?! 

"Hehe... why- why are you crying, John?" He laughs.

"Because... you're a fucking asshole, Sherlock!" I shout before, I throw myself towards him and hug him. "And that's why I can't lose you! Why, Sherlock... Why do you do this?!" I plead. He doesn't respond, his arms don't move from his sides. 

"... because I'm a ... hehe... a mess..." His voice cracks and I feel him break down on my shoulder, crying. Then, I feel something warm on my back... Sherlock's arms... I squeeze him tighter and as does he.

"You're my mess..." I whisper. We stay like that for a while until, Sherlock stops crying and I dry my tears away. We let go and we look at each other. I check the clock on the mantle piece, 12:03am. It's late. "It's late, Sherlock. We should go to bed, we have school tomorrow." I say wiping Sherlock's wet eyes. 

"I know~." He sings, he doesn't even sound like he's been crying anymore. He just sounds... drunk. I help him through the corridor. His bed room door is still locked.

"Do you know where the key is?" I ask.

"Uhhhhhhhh... Pocket?" He checks his pocket. "Nope not in there... then no. No I don't know where it is."

"Sherlock." I groan.

"I'm sorryyyyy~~~" He wines, I sight thinking what to do.

"You'll have to sleep in my room to nigh, then. I'll sleep on the sofa." I lead him into my room and he just runs through the door and lands on my bed with a thump. He kicks his shoes and socks off and he takes his shirt off next, I look away in embarrassment however, I can't help but look slightly at him. He then removes his jeans so, he is only in his boxers. I feel my temperature rise again to the sight of his thin figure, his skin so milky white and looks so smooth. His body looks pure and innocent, except for the lashes on his back which I presume was from his father's belt and his arms and there are even some scars and cuts on his legs. I feel so much pity for him yet, I can't help but feel weird inside to see what his skin looks like from underneath his clothes.

He settles himself underneath the covers and snuggles into the sheets inhaling the scent of the fabric and humming with approval. I walk towards him .

"I hope you sleep well, Sherlock. I'll be in the other room if you need me." He just hums and I walk away towards the door. "G'night, Sherlock." I pull the door behind me until, a shout stops me.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouts from the room. I open the door again and sigh.

"What is it, Sherlock?" 

"Why are you leaving?" He wines again.

"because I need sleep too." 

"Can- can you stay here, with me." I can't watch you all night, Sherlock." 

"Then, don't watch, sleep, here, next to me." A large blush creeps up on my face, I try to cover it with my hand and I look away. 

"Sh-Sherlock, I-I can't. I-it's wrong." I protest. The offer is so tempting and I don't know why. "I'll only be in the other room, not too far away." He looks at me sadly yet, sternly.

"John... p-please stay. I need you here, I won't be able to sleep without you." His voice becomes stern and mellow with disappointment. "Please." He begs. I can't say no, I'll feel bad plus just sleeping next to him can't hurt... right? It doesn't make me gay, does it? No. No it doesn't.

"Fine. I'll stay, Sherlock." His face lights up to those words, he looks like a child at Christmas. I it on the other side of the bed taking my socks off. I go to take my shirt off however, I stop, I can't do that it'll be wrong.

"Just take your shirt off, Watson." I hear Sherlock sigh, face rammed into the pillow. I chuckle lightly and do so. Still, though, I am not gay. I lay under the sheets, which are already warm from Sherlock's body heat. 

"Good night, Sherlock." I say, yawning as I set an alarm on my phone.

"Good night, Watson." 

 

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _Shut up!_ My hand slams itself on the alarm clock snooze button however, there is no alarm clock there and the alarm keeps beeping. I hiss in pain from hitting the table I locate where it is coming from, it's on the other bed side table but, it's a phone... not mine... neither is this bed... and who is that next to me? I lift the covers away from their face... IT'S JOHN!!! 

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!??" I shout. It wakes up John who looks at me worriedly. 

"Are you ok, Sherlock? What's happened!?" 

"WHY ARE WE IN THE SAME BED!?"

"Do you not remember?" 

"REMEMBER WHAT?!" I shout again... wait... "Watson... did we... have sex?" I ask. John's face goes red before he blurts out.

"NO.NO.NO.NO. It's not like that!" He waves his hands around nervously. With all the shouting we did not realise that Mycroft had come up the stairs to see what the noise was about and we had not noticed that he saw me, only in my underwear, or John, in just a pair of trousers. A smile creeps up on Mycroft's face and he laughs so hard he is crying. 

"HAHahahaha! Busy last night were you, Little Brother!? HAgahahahah, since when do you give into sentiment?!" He roars. I just sigh and put my head into my hands, not in embarrassment but, in pity for John, it  _is_ a bit funny though...

"IT WASN'T LIKE THAT!!!" John shouts. He has a lot of explaining to do.


	3. Explinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds out what happened last night however, gets defensive as to why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is short the next one will be longer it just really early and I wanted to get this done.

John explains to me and Mycroft the situation of last night's events, apparently I was drunk, high and I smoked. I admit having a cigarette or 2 and then having a few pints then, nothing. I honestly have no recollection of what happened. I also, apparently, was acting really weird and when John took me to his bedroom, as mine was locked and I had lost the key, I asked him to stay with me, I begged him. ME. BEGGING. That's new even for me. 

"So, I slept in the same bed as you and that's why I'm here this morning." John finishes. Mycroft looks at me angrily. 

"Where's the list, Sherlock?" He asks.

"List? List of what? Shopping? On the counter in the kitchen, we could do with some milk-"

"Stop it! Just stop it, Sherlock! Where is your list!" He snaps, John just looks at us weirdly. I groan and grab my jeans from the other night and retrieve a piece of paper. 

"They should be in order..." I mumble. I see his facial expressions change as he reads through the list of drugs. He sighs heavily, putting the paper in his school trouser pocket.

"I'm arranging for your therapy again, Sherlock. You may have stopped from when we left but, you're starting again whether you like it or not. No protests, no whining, you are going, get changed. John speak to me at school later. Goodbye." He leaves before either of our responses. John gets changed in silence, he seems to feel tense. I go to ask him if he's ok but, he speaks before me.

"Sherlock?" 

"Yes, Watson?" I reply.

"I didn't tell you the whole story..." He mutters.

"Oh? Would you like to tell me?"

"Yes but, I wont tell Mycroft about it, I don't think it's ok to tell him... it's about what you said to me..."

"What did I say to you?" This worries me, I could've said anything to him, things that he can't know like Moriarty and such on... oh no...

"Well, after you pretended to play pirates you came up close to me and put your hands on my shoulders and then held my hand. I saw your sleeve roll up slightly and I saw scaaaa-" John stumbles on his words, he takes a deep breath in and out. "I saw something on your arm and it was... it was... scars." John turns to look at me and stops getting changed. I clutch my arm close to my chest, I forgot they still existed there. Then again, if I injected myself with drugs the other scars would stand out... this isn't very good. "You- you told me they were from your father... but, some are from you... cutting..." Jeez how much did I tell him? "I'm sorry I looked, Sherlock, I didn't want to invade in your privacy... I'm sorry your father is like that..." He mumbles coming to the end of his sentence.

"Well, then, it doesn't matter anyway, you've seen and it isn't a secret to you anymore. Just don't tell anyone, understand?" 

"Just answer one thing... why?" 

"Why, what?" I ask irritably.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He almost begs to know.

"I don't have to justify my actions to you, Watson! Leave me to my own devices, I know what I'm doing and I know why I a doing it so, why do you need to know?!" I snap.

"Because, Sherlock! I care! I'm worried, I'm scared, I'm- I'm so confused!" He shouts back at me. I rub the bridge of my nose and sigh aloud. 

"Not that I would like this conversation now but, I have a door to knock down because I need to get changed for school now, if you excuse me." I get up and walk out the room with my jeans, shirt and jacket, socks and shoes in my hand. I manage to knock the door down and get into my room to get changed.

After, I walked into the lounge to greet John, he is on his easy chair drinking a cup of tea and playing on his phone. 

"Have you had breakfast, Watson?" I ask, heading into the kitchen. 

No reply.

"Come on, Watson, don't do this, this morning." I moan.

No reply.

I grunt and storm to him, standing in front of him.

"Have you eaten, Watson?" I say more sternly. 

No reply. 

John just looks at his phone, not even caring that I'm in front of him. I grab his phone out of his hand and turn it of, putting it into my pocket. He just glares at me, sipping his tea.

"John, have you eaten yet?" I ask calmer, maybe he'll listen to me now.

"...no..." He mumbles. 

"Do you want me to make you something?" 

"No." He mumbles again.

"Ok, look, I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean for this to effect you like that. Ok?" 

"...It's ok..." 

"No-no it's not ok! It's never ok!" I snap.

"Funny... you said the same thing last night when I told you ' Its ok'." He says, sipping again at his tea.

"I mean it, John. It's not ok, I know it's not ok. I'm sorry I've bought you down with me. However, even though things aren't ok, doesn't mean you don't make them like that, in fact, you make things better. Now, can you eat?" I ask.

"I will if you answer my question from earlier."

"...I can't, John..."

"Please..."

"... I'll say one thing but, then you have to eat..."

"Ok, I promise." He crosses his heart with his index finger.

"I deserve it, I need to numb the pain, I need to be cured. I am sick with an incurable disease and I need my medication to numb the pain as there is no cure in the world. That's all I shall say..." John just looks at me, he stands up so, we are so close together I can feel his breath on my skin.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm planning on working at a hospital because then, I can be your doctor and you can be my patient." He whispers, as he reaches his hand into my pocket. My body jerks at his action into a stiff, posture. His hand exits my pocket holding his mobile phone. "Some toast please, Sherlock." He says sitting down again, turning on his phone. I walk back into the kitchen and put 4 pieces of toast into the toaster, calming myself down. He's going to be bugging me about this for a long time to come. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A female enrols at John's and Sherlock's school however, how much trouble will she cause and why is she causing it?

The bell has gone for the beginning of form time with our tutor called Mr Smith, Culverton Smith, I don't like him, not at all. There's something about him that makes me feel uneasy and on edge. I shake it off as just growing up hormones however, I'm still going to keep an eye on him anyway. He doesn't make us do any work or activities in form so usually we just talk. Me and john sit in our places next to each other, Molly opposite John and Donavan and Anderson to the left of me on the other side of the table. Mr Smith is at the front of the class doing the register but, the thing that catches my eye is that there is someone standing next to him, a female. 

"Right, class. We have a new member of our class." He announces. "This is Irene Adler. Miss Adler this is our class." Everyone in the class greets her however, I just sit there looking at her. I... I can't read her...I can't deduce her. There are no signs of, anything to let me know anything about her. I see her eyes flick to mine, it feels like a bolt of lightening has just hit me. She makes me feel something that I've never felt before. What is it...? "Go sit over there, now. Right next to, Molly."  _Shit._ She walks over to our table. John leans in next to my ear.

"look at her, Sherlock. She's gorgeous." He whispers. I scoff and roll my eyes. Yes she is quite good looking however, that won't cover the fact that she's different to other people but, how? She sits down on the chair.

"H-hello, Miss. I-I'm John, John Watson." John stutters.

"Please~, call me Irene, John." He voice is like velvet yet, he words are like a python, suffocating me slowly and purely, both at the same time. She looks almost intimidating.

"Sherlock." John grits his teeth. 

"Hm?" I hum, keeping my eyes on her.

"Say hello, greet her." He hisses. I grab John by his collar and pull him towards me so my mouth is next to his ear.

"John, I do not like where this is going, I do not give into sentiment however, that is an area where you fail to full fill. Now just leave me be." I shout whispering in his ear. He pushes me away and sakes his head.

"Sorry about my friend, he's usually like this, just ignore him." He chuckles, why does he never listen to me?! I see her laugh at his remark and looks at me. 

"Don't worry, John. I'm sure, Sherlock was it? Is just nervous~." She purrs. "How about we have lunch together, John. Bring Sherlock as well." 

The bell rings. I grab my contact book, note book and pencil case, before I get up to leave to go to French someone grabs my arm, _her._

"Looks like we have French together, Holmes. Would you mind escorting me there~?" Her breath is minty fresh, it hits my nostrils like a bullet to the head. I flinch to look at her.

"Stay away from Watson." I grumble. She just grins.

"Oh, I like how you care about him, it's adorable, really, it is. However, it's not my fault, he came into my trap like a moth to a light. He's in good hands Mr Holmes."

"I don't care about him, he's a mere acquaintance." I reply. She sighs laughing slightly.

"Oh, please, he's fallen for you as much as he has for me. Have you figured me out yet? Like what you do with other people, that deduction thing?" Her grip on my arm tightens. I stay silent as we arrive our next lesson. "I assume not, then?" She giggles. "Maybe we can carry this conversation at lunch? See you then, Mr Holmes~~." With that, she loosens my arm and walks into class before me. I slowly walk in and take my seat and the lesson begins. Thankfully, she is seated somewhere else, away from me. I sigh with relief.

* * *

The bell for lunch rings after 3rd lesson, biology. She wasn't in that lesson but, she was in my second lesson, English, John sits elsewhere in that lesson, he sits next to her while, I have to sit next to Donovan, that idiot. I don't speak to her, she would lower my IQ by the second if I do. John meets me out side my locker and he is accompanied with  _her._ I slam my locker shut, holding my apple in my left hand.  _She_ is holding his arm, like what she did to me on the way to French, it cringes me, for some reason. 

"Shall we go, then?" John asks. I just follow as they lead off down the corridor. She's planning something and I don't know what it is, why can't I figure her out, I can't even tell what her parents do. It hurts not knowing... that's what she makes me feel... unsure. I feel unsure. How has this one girl made me feel unsure? I've only just met her and she's already gotten to me. We walk through the lunch hall doors and we sit down at a table, John and  _her_ sit next to each other and I sit opposite. I feel weird about this situation, it makes me uneasy, it makes me worried... 

"So, John, did you enjoy English~?" She coos, lying her head on his shoulder. His back straightens up and he sits with more posture, a sign he is tense. 

"Y-yes, I-I did." He replies, he's embarrassed. What happened in that lesson? I don't want to know. However, the more I don't want to know, the more my brain interprets what happened. It makes me feel sick, I put a hand to my mouth. "What's up, Sherlock?" John asks, eating his sandwich.

"Nothing, I'm- I'm fine." Trying to keep calm I take a deep breath in and out. Stop, feeling this. It's highly annoying she's making me feel. I manage to compose myself and return to my regular posture. John just shrugs it off and continues with his sandwich. _She_ just stares at me the whole time, like she's looking through me. I stand up and walk away.

"Where you going, Sherlock?" John shouts.

"I'm getting some air!" I reply, leaving the lunch hall. I walk out the door that leads to the back of the school. I reach into my blazer pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I take one out and light it, sucking on the end and dispersing some smoke.  I hold it in my hand for a bit, letting the tar settle in before, taking another drag. I hear the door, which I came through, open. I look who it is, Irene. I sigh heavily, putting the cigarette into my mouth. She walks towards me, holding something.

"Hey, when you left you forgot your apple." 

"Yeah, I know, it's not really a priority at the moment." I grumble. She comes even closer to me.

"Come now, Sherlock. Eating is important~." Her arm waves the apple in front of me, I just grab my cigarette out my mouth and blow out some smoke. 

"I'm not interested, Miss Adler. You may have John in you hold but, I am not." 

"That's only because I don't need you."

"So, why do you need John?" I growl. She just gives out a light chuckle before her face comes close to mine as she grips my hand, pulling me down so I'm at eye level with her. I look at her, unimpressed. She looks at me with a grin on her lips.

"You don't need to know that, my dear Sherlock~~. I have an idea, let's swap, give me the cigarette and I'll give you the apple." She whispers. I just look at her, if she doesn't want me, why is she doing this? Her hand grabs the cigarette and she moves back. She takes a drag from it and blows out the toxic gas. "High tar, very nice~." She grins as she throws me the apple. I catch it and wipe it on my shirt. Taking a bite out of it, I keep eye contact with her smoking. I put the apple in my mouth for a second bite, she stops me by grabbing my arm. She then, replaces her hand with mine. "Bite." She commands. I just look in confusion but, then, do as told. She takes the apple away from my mouth and throws the cigarette to the floor, stepping on it. Well, that was a waste of a cigarette. 

"What are you-" I become extremely uncomfortable because she licks the area where I bit into the apple. My hands clench together and I swallow what's left of the apple I bit off. She just licks it and then she sucks the juice out of it. My lips become dry so, I lick them in response. Suddenly, she bites down on the apple, taking a chunk off it. My shoulders flinch from the sudden movement and I gulp. The girl then looks at me with dark eyes, she licks her lips. Before I try and respond, she looks down and comments.

"Hm? Most boys would be exited by that but, not you. You just look... uncomfortable~~."  The last word rolls off her tongue. "Maybe this will~." She then comes towards me and slams her lips on mine. My eyes widen yet, I don't react, my legs do not move, my arms don't move either, all I do is look. My mind only has one question, why is she doing all this? This doesn't 'turn me on' in the slightest but, it just makes me uncomfortable. She just keeps kissing me with her tongue in my mouth. After a minute she stops and takes another look. "Wow, I'm impressed, Holmes. Nothing." She smiles. "I thought you would give in but, that's not an option. You don't respond because this is just as arousing as a hug off your mum." She says plainly. "such a shame as well, I could've had a lot of fun with you. How did it feel to you?" I don't listen to her muttering. I just think 'why'. After, something that felt like a second her question comes through.

"Nothing. I don't feel anything." She chuckles.

"Well you've just confirmed my suspicions. In my opinion, Mr Holmes, you aren't straight. Your actually gay." She reaches into her pocket pulling out some lipstick. "Thank you, Sherlock. I can leave John alone now, you've made this easier." Her lips make a pop sound.

"What do you mean?" I ask, squinting my eyes. She once again chuckles.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you but, I can't. I'll say one thing though, to keep you one edge~." She puts her head next to my ear. "Did you miss me?" She whispers. I look straight ahead of me in realisation as soon as those words leave her lips. She kisses my cheek and leaves.

"See you later, Sherlock~~." And she's gone. I stand there in shock. She works for Moriarty. How did I not know that? He's planning something, something big.

I reach into my pocket to grab another cigarette and I light it with a shaking hand. I'm scared... why am I scared? I shouldn't be scared. I'm not scared. I'm worried. Why are there so many emotions in humans when most emotions make us weaker? I take a large drag of my cigarette and hold it for a while. Then, I let it out, heavily.

John comes through the door and sees me with a cigarette in my mouth. He walks towards me and takes it out my mouth and throws it on the floor, stepping on it, just like what the girl did.

"What the  _hell_ are you doing, Sherlock!?" He shouts, I look down at the angry boy to stare at him. He notices another cigarette on the floor. "You're having another one even though you've just had one?!" I just stare. "Sherlock?" I just stare. "Sherlock!" I just stare. The moment I finally blink, I notice John looking at my moth and cheek.   


"What're you looking at John?" I ask.  


"What's that on your cheek and lips Sherlock? Since when do you wear lipstick?" 

"I don't?" My hand rubs on my lips and I look at it, red. Red lipstick. The girl.

"I only know one person who wears lipstick that red, Sherlock..." He doesn't sound angry, he just sounds sad.

"John, I can explain-" 

"I don't need an explanation. Did you kiss her?" 

"No, I didn't kiss her, she kissed me, I didn't know what to do!" 

"I don't care if  _she_ kissed  _you!_ I want to know did you kiss her back?" His hands clutch together. Where is he trying to get with this?

"No, John I didn't kiss her back. I didn't do anything, I assure you." I notice he calms down slightly at my reassurance.

"Ok-ok." He sighs, putting his hands to his face.

"Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm just...relieved."

"Why are you relieved?" 

"I- I don't actually know. I thought you would like her and stop spending time with me." He mumbles. 

"Trust me, John, the last thing I would do is give into sentiment to other people. Plus turns out, I'm gay anyway so, that just proves my point more." I smile, rubbing the rest of the lipstick off my face.

"Mhmhhh that's always good." He nods with a smile back however, his smile disappears at the acknowledgment of my statement. "Wait! Hold on!" 

"Yes? What is it, Watson?" 

"You're- you're gay?!" The confused boy shouts.

"Apparently so." I nod. John's face goes red. "Problem?" He is quick to wave his hands.

"No! No, I'm not homophobic. I- I just didn't realise!"

"John... you told me that I held your hand last night after, I rubbed your shoulders and arms." He shuffles nervously.

"y-yeah but, still you were drunk... drunk people do weird stuff.."

"Yeah keep telling yourself that..." I grumble.

"What?" 

"Nothing." I sigh. "The bell's going to go in a minute we should get out things. 

"Ok, let's go then." We walk back through the door, entering the building. We go to John's locker first, to get his things however, he turns to me handing me a bag. "It has your name on it?" I take the bag looking inside it. There's a letter inside.

_That was fun, Sherlock. Let's go for dinner sometime? Text me._

There's a phone number underneath and the letter ends with:

_Love from: The Girl xx_

I put the note into my pocket and reach for the item inside the bag. It's an apple... with three bite marks engraved in it.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asks. I just shake my head putting the apple back into the bag, I throw it in the bin.

"Nothing of importance, my dear Watson. Let's go to my locker." 

* * *

 

John, Mycroft and I walk back from school together. We keep in silence for the most time, there's some idle chit-chat here and there from John talking about what happened in what lesson. 

"I have called our doctor and he has recommended for you to go to a therapist near by, Little Brother. It's a group therapy where other children come with similar problems as you go and you talk about your problems." Mycroft says, tapping on his phone. I groan.

"I'm not going."

"Oh, trust me, you will." He reassures me.

"And why is that?"

"If you do not attend, you will go into rehab." 

"What's the differ-"

"You will live there for however long it takes for you to stop being addicted. Even if it means for you to stay there until graduation." He states sternly.

"You can't do that!" 

"Oh yes Ican, and I will, Sherlock. Do not test me." I groan hard, messing up my hair. 

"Fine! I will attend but, John is coming with me." John's head whips towards my direction.

"Oh, Sherlock, you're being childish, this is a matter your addictions and it is your problem alone." Mycroft hisses.

"I'm not being childish! John is apart of the equation with my addictions, he carries that on his back as well as me!"

"Sherlock!" He growls.

"Mycroft!" I growl back.

"Boys!" We hear a third voice interrupt. We both look at John, turns out we both stopped walking and Mycroft and I are face to face. We just begin walking again and John scurries behind to catch up again. "Listen, I don't mind coming with Sherlock to- whatever it is. I can keep an eye on him, make sure he tells me where he's going and who he has round the flat. However, as his brother, Mycroft, this should be your job."

"I can't look after him like he's a child, John." 

"I'm not saying you should, I'm saying you should help him." 

"If I hadn't of helped him, where do you think he would be now?" I look down to the floor.

"Mycroft, please don't-."

"He'd be dead in an abandoned building." John looks at me as he heard the word 'dead'. I keep my head down, snarling to myself. "That's why he makes a list of all the drugs he's had because that day he was shaken up and I hope it'll be a lesson learnt to him." 

"Mycroft! Having something like that happen to him shouldn't be a lesson to be taught, it's not like him crossing the road to then be hit by a car and for you to think, while he's possibly dying, that you get taught these things so it shouldn't happen! Things happen because it's life, Sherlock shouldn't be looked down upon because of it, he needs to have help and to be listened to so, we can prevent anything like that happening to him ever again! He isn't a child and you say you don't want to treat him like one so, stop doing just that!" John snaps, I can see his hands fisted. John's actually standing up for me... why would he do that? I don't need standing up for, especially against my brother.

"It's fine, John. It doesn't matter, let's just get back to the flat, we can talk there; where there are no snakes hissing around." I grumble. The rest of the way home is silent, an uncomfortable one at that. We arrive 5 minutes later, Mycroft goes to his room, me and John head up the creaky steps. We head into our flat and I shut the door after us, slamming it. I chuck my coat and blazer on the floor and undo my top buttons. John picks up the clothes off the floor and hangs them up. 

"Are you ok, Sherlock?" John asks taking his own blazer.

"Yes I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? I'm fine! Ok!? I'm fine!" I shout. 

"Sherlock, calm down. It's-." I cut John off mid sentence.

"Don't make say the same sentence again, I swear to fucking god! NOTHING IS EVER OK! IT WILL NEVER BE OK!" John jumps at the loudness of my voice. I just sigh and storm off into my bedroom. Just before I'm gone I hear john breath:

"Oh, Sherlock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the first chapter I said John had a jumper, I meant to put blazer, sorry for the confusion.


	5. The Truth Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late, I've been having some difficulties in updating this but, here you go. Enjoy :)

My music is turned up full blast on my headphones, the song ringing through my head. I listen to the words, lyric by lyric, trying to lose myself in the world of nothingness. However, my mind still remains with one question hanging off it, what is Moriarty planning? The fact that he hired the Girl to spy on John and I, is confusing me, what's the point in making her seduce John for her to then come to me? Was she trying to make John jealous? Was she trying to get under my skin or even try to get information? I've known Jim since First School and he was even in the same inpatient detox centre after my 'incident'. I had to stay there for a while at the beginning of year 7 at Middle School, 20 days was agreed upon by my counsellor and my Mother. Once settled in a room, I began my detoxification time. It was infuriating! I had to stay in the building with 24 hour care. My Mother never came to see me, neither did my Father, my brother came once on the weekends. I was alone with no one who liked me, I was bored and all my life just drained out of me. True, it was fun causing fights at points with people who I pissed off by basically 'being myself' however, that just put me under more surveillance and less contact with other people, which wasn't much of a problem because I started realising, no one cares, no one matters to me or I to them, I was reaching to the very bottom of low until, that day. I shake my head, trying to erase the though from my mind. The bed squeaks as I turn my body over, tossing the sheets off to the corner of the bed. John is leaning against the door frame, holding a cup of tea. I just groan and implant my face into my pillow, he sits down next to me on the bed and removes my headphones.

"I don't want tea." I mumble into my pillow.

"Drink the damn tea." I sigh and take the tea, crossing my leg. The silence is thick and awkward. "Listen, Sherlock, about wh-."

"I don't care anymore, John. It's pointless to dwell on something so insignificant in my life." I blow on my drink to cool it.

"Sherlock, don't get me wrong but, even if you do say that, you are still human and you have feelings."

"Since when am _I_ human?" 

"Since the day you were born, Sherlock. You say you aren't human and you don't have feelings but, in fact you do. Whether you like it or not."

"Well, I've died long since I was bought onto this pitiful, loathsome, disgusting parasite of a planet!" I sneer. 

"You're here, with me, you're not dead, you are a living, breathing, organism. You keep all these normal human functions inside you and it's unhealthy. You may not be dead now, but you are killing yourself slowly!"

"My problems are my own! Do you hear me, John?! Hum!? Do you understand my words?! They are  _my_ concern!"

"You aren't helping yourself at all, Sherlock!" 

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE!" My tea spills onto my lap and on the bed. A hiss of pain escapes my lips as I try to rub it off and slamming the tea cup on the table. My body jerks off the bed, John isn't in the room anymore. He returns quickly with a wet towel. I just rub at the fabric in pain.

"Sit down, please. Let me rub it off."

"I can do it myself-" 

"Just sit on the bloody bed!" He snaps at me. Looking at him, I comply sitting on the edge of the bed. He goes in between my legs and starts scrubbing at the patch of tea. I look down at him, his dirty blond hair looks more soft up close than from a distance, it almost makes me want to touch it. His slightly tanned skin looks so soft yet rough on his hands, cheeks, neck and some on his forearm of his left arm from, what appears, to be cuts and bruises from where his bullies beat him up. Something about seeing those inflicted marks sets off pangs of anger. On top of that anger, there's an unknown, tight feeling in my chest that feels like it's rising to my throat, almost suffocating me. I just cough a bit to try and get rid of it, it helps slightly but, not for long as John accidently brushes off my inner leg near... near my...my...

"John, who did this?" I blurt out, keeping my mind off the action taking place physically and mentally. John looks up at me with his pale, greyish, blue eyes, almost questioningly before, realising what I'm enquiring about.

"Oh- those? I have nothing to hide, really." He says, looking down again. "Just some kids, like you said, bullies." I see a smile on his face form. "But don't worry about it, that's the good thing about being a doctors son, you learn how to take care of cuts and such on." 

"You're such a hypocrite." I chuckle dryly.

"Oh? And why is that?" 

"You tell me not to suppress feelings, when clearly, you do so yourself. You are ashamed of them but, you tell people because you're looking for the attention you never had from your father and brother. People say I don't understand feelings, I do, some of them, but I choose to ignore other's feelings because if I give into sympathy then, it's giving into every other thing I've built up on."

"Sister..." He mumbles.

"Sorry?" 

"You never gave me chance to say this but, you're wrong. I have a sister, not brother." 

"Sister!" I shout whispering to myself in disappointment. "Wait so, she's...?" 

"Yep. I liked her girlfriend because she would listen to me and when she left I had no one else and you're right, I wanted people to know and understand so, I would actually be cared about for once, by someone. Anyone. But, you know, don't tell anyone, I'm not an attention seeker or anything... plus, I thought we were on the subject of you suppressing your feelings. Not me-"

"I see... may I do something... uncharacteristic for me to do..." I ask.

"Uncharacteristic? Sherlock, you have every characteristic I can think of, what can be out of character for you?" I place my hand on his hair, tangling my fingers into each strand. "...except... that...." Taking a deep breath in and out I cough.

"I-... I care, John..." I mumble. His head moves to look up at me, he's looks sad? "Uh... John... I thought I did something nice, I didn't know it was... sad?" He laughs sadly and gets up to hug me, his arms wrapping around my neck, shoving his head next to mine. My arms are in mid air, wondering what to do with themselves. My eyes blink in confusion before I hesitantly close my arms around his body. I can feel my heart in my chest, pumping rapidly and my breathing is fast. 

"Thank you, Sherlock." John stutters into my neck, he seems really worked up, maybe this meant a lot to him... Feeling his breath on my neck makes me feel weird again but, this time it's more like a... fuzzy feeling. I can't describe it however, it feels... nice...

"It's ok." He looks uncomfortable hanging off the bed on my neck and it isn't comfortable for me either, I can feel my neck going stiff. I decide to lift his legs up from of the floor and sit on the bed properly with him. I cross my legs and I put Johns legs either side of my body and he raps them around me, clinging onto me and then letting his body relax. I sigh tiredly, I would really like to lie down again. "John?" I ask. 

"Hm?" He sounds tired and lazy.

"You want to have a nap before dinner?"

"Mmmmno, I should- I should probably make some dinner, it's getting late." He begins to try and shuffle away but, I hold onto him tighter.

"I can sort it later, if you begin now, you'll end up burning the whole flat down so, I suggest you don't."

"I'll be fine, Sherlock." He groans into my shoulder.

"No, you're going to have a nap plus, it gives me time to take a rest as well. If you don't rest, I won't and you always go one about how I need to take a break."

"But Sherlock-"

"No."

"Sherlock-"

"No. I'm putting my foot down, John, I'll wake you up, I promise. Do it for me... please..." I hear him sigh.

"Fine, 10 minutes, no longer."

"Cross my heart." The room goes silent, me and john still embraced. I shift my head a bit to try and look at him. He's asleep, I knew he was tired, probably due to school and looking after me. I shuffle over to the edge of the bed to retrieve the duvet and I lay down slowly, aligning my head with the pillow, John, still on my chest. I manage to lie down and lay the covers on top of us and I relax. Finally, my back won't kill me anymore, I might as well go on my phone for a bit before I rest also. I grab my phone out my trouser pocket and I turn it on, a message pops up on the home page, as I begin to type the password. As soon as I enter my phone, I open up my messages and click on the number. 

_Mycroft: Have you finished with your little tantrum, Little Brother? MH._

I groan at the text and reply back. John whimpers lightly, readjusting his head on my chest. 

_Me: I didn't have a tantrum, Mycroft. What you did was uncalled for and inappropriate to tell John. SH._

_Mycroft: He has the right to know if your going to make him hold your hand at the therapy sessions. MH.  
_

_Me: Oh, why don't you just go run back to Lestrade, Mycroft. I bet he's dying to have another 'meeting' with you. SH_. _  
_

_Mycroft: Stop trying to change the subject, Sherlock, just because I backed you into a corner. MH_

_Me: I have more important things to do at the moment, Brother Dear. Another time would work handsomely, Goodbye. SH._

I turn my phone off and look up at the ceiling, hearing another two messages ping on my phone. My curiosity over runs me and I unlock my phone and read the messages.

_Mycroft: I hope you and John have some fun, I can tell you two will become close partners. MH._ _  
_

_Mycroft: However, something tells me you two are closer than 'partners.' Goodnight, Brother Mine. MH  
_

I throw my phone on the floor, causing John to stir and he moves up. His face is close to mine, with his lips slightly parted, allowing small, slow, breaths escaping. I gulp, unsure what to do. To be honest, being in bed the other night was the closest to human contact as I have ever had, never mind him sleeping on top of me! What do I even do in a situation like this? Do I hug him? Do I leave him to sleep and entertain myself? Do I just go to sleep? Do I kiss him? NOPE. That wouldn't be a good idea. That would be a very long conversation later on 'why not to engage in acts such as showing signs of affection while the victim is sleeping.' Plus, it's not that he thinks of me in that way, and it's not like I like him either. I have other things to worry about. Shut your eyes. Better things to worry about, like school work and... Moriarty and the Girl and... and... John's lips... and his chest... and his stomach, his hips, his thighs, his... OKAY ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH!!! I need to get away from him, so much stress. Gah! Ok, calm down just calm down, it's not like he will make me do anything. Relax. Try. And. Sleep. 

"Sherlock?" His words make me jump out of my thoughts and I stare at the tired looking boy as he rubs his eye and yawns. "I'm sorry if I startled you but, how come I'm still... here...?

"Well, I didn't want to wake you up so, I though I should just leave you to sleep and to keep you warm and comfortable. Is that so wrong to do?" I hear him laugh groggily.

"No, I'm just saying you could've put me in my own room." 

"Now, that's just a bit selfish, really." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in a bad way. Thank you, though, for caring." 

"This isn't going to be an everyday thing, Watson if that's what you're thinking." 

"I know, I don't expect it to be, I'm just glad you care so much."

"Well, it's only what any other flatmate would do, Watson. Nothing special." I stretch. 

"You know what I've noticed about you, Sherlock?" He asks, placing his head back to- near enough- his original position.

"And what is that?"

"You only say my first name when you're telling the truth or being serious with me."

"Is that so? I've never noticed." I reply, raising my eyebrows.

"Mhmhh, just wanted to tell ya." He hums sleepily. 

"Right," I cough. "I need to get my phone, I may have thrown it and we also need to have dinner." I say, moving John onto the bed. John just sits up again and yawns. I retrieve my phone, there's a few cracks on the screen but, not fatal so, it'll still be good to use. The time's 5:12 pm. "What do you want for dinner, John?" 

"Uhhhh... I don't know, I don't mind really." 

"How about we just get some fish and chips from the chip shop down the road?" I suggest as I shove my phone back into my pocket and sitting on the bed.

"Yeah sure, I'm guessing I'll have to go so, I'll get changed and get my shoes on. What would you like?" He gets up and heads for the door way.

"Well, I was planning to go with you but, if you want to go alone, that's fine."

"Oh, well, you normally make me go out to get things so, I just naturally assumed... yeah- yeah you can come, that'll be nice." 

"Good, let's get ready then." I smile. He smiles back in confusion and walks away. My smile drains away and I sigh. 

What is he doing to me? I'm feeling things that I had numbed myself to feel yet, this boy is breaking that barrier down. This can't happen, I need to stay distant, alone, to myself. But, I don't want to hurt him, to lose him... he's making it hard for me to stay away from him. This is something I've avoided for all my life and it's all crumbling down before me and I'm watching it happen. I'm LETTING it happen. I have to say this but, dare I say... Mycroft... might be right... I'm giving into sentiment, I'm getting too attached. I can't. I won't. I... I don't want to lose him.

"Sherlock!" I hear him shout from the lounge, I frown and grab my shoes to put them on.

"On my way, John!" I reply. I slip my shoes on quickly and run through the door.

* * *

 Lesson is boring. They're literally teaching me things I already know! Maths is so boring. I'm sitting next to a class moron, who I don't even know. It pisses me off to think that teachers give us seating arrangements. John isn't in top set with me, he's in second set, however. The bell finally goes and I'm out of there as soon as it does, the teacher tells the others to clean the room up but, I don't stay around for that, I just rush to put my things into my next lesson, English, and I go to John's maths room to wait for him because he stays to clean up most the things in the class. I lean against the wall and look at some other students walking past from some of the other classes. I huff bored of waiting for John. Before I manage to stop leaning against the wall, someone runs into me and he leaves as soon as he came, I, on the other hand, am on the wall again, holding onto the bricks to stop myself from falling over.

"...Moron..." I mumble, composing myself again, straightening my blazer and brushing it down. The door finally opens and some kids walk out including John, he's quick to notice me as I always wait for him after maths. He walks towards me to greet me with a smile. 

We walk outside together and John is talking to me about what happened in his maths lesson. I, obviously, don't listen because my mind is set on having another cigarette, I'm bored... it's boring here, nothing interesting is happening! I need excitement! 

"Hold that thought, Watson. I just need to take care of something." I disrupt him midsentence. 

"Oh, and what would that be?" He enquires.

"Give me 3 minutes, Watson!" I shout starting to walking away quickly, soon after, I begin running. I make sure he doesn't follow me as I turn the corner, I just see him sitting down on a bench. The same place as last time would be a good place to go so, I run towards the back of the school. Once I arrive, I immediately lean against the wall to catch my breath, as I do I reach into my pocket for my cigarettes and my lighter. However, as I do, I grab another object. A piece of paper or (more specifically) a letter. It looks like it's been in a book, one that is open regularly and subjected to dirty water, causing it to have been slightly damaged. Must've been dropped in a puddle so, taken out the house. Could've been kept in a contact book or notepad, not a reading book because it has been dropped slightly in a puddle and people, rarely, read outside. It's an A4 piece of paper written in portrait position and folded horizontally. The crease from where it has been folded looks like it's been flattened so, it wouldn't open on it's own without being opened by hand which means it must be private. There's also a fold on the top left hand corner which has also been pressed down... continuously, by a finger nail; nerves. Before I open the letter I'm going to light my cigarette. I do so and put my lighter back into my pocket as well as the pack of cigarettes. I open up the note and read it in my head.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_Meet me in the gym at 9:00 pm sharp. It will be good fun, like old times. Don't disappoint me. Here's my number if you wanna have a little chat sometime._

_JM xxx_

Is this what karma is? I wanted some fun because school is boring and now I'm messing with fire. I have to go, or else who know what would happen. I take another drag of my cigarette. The woman... he hired her... why. Later. I need to go back to John; he'll be suspicious.

* * *

8:30 pm. Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson's house.

"John!" I shout from my bedroom, tying my shoe up. "JOHN!" I quickly shove my pistol into my trouser pocket before he comes in.

"What is it, Sherlock!" John groans from in the kitchen. He walks into my room shortly after. "I was just about to make food."

"I need to go out." I grab my other shoe.

"Where could you possibly be going at this time? 

"Don't worry about it, I just need to go out, it's important."

"Why aren't you telling me where, though?"

"I'll explain later."

"Sherlock, I hope you aren't going out to do more drugs and alcohol." He becomes concerned.

"No, I'm not."

"You have to promise me."

"I promise. Don't worry." I get up and I grab my coat.

"Please, Sherlock, be safe, ok? Be back at 9:30. 10 at the latest." Why does he care all of a sudden?

"Yes yes. Ok, bye." I exit the flat and start walking towards the school. I check the time, 8:34. I might be early. I better slow down a bit. Maybe, get some more cigarettes from one of my 'friends.' I notice a woman I recognise, one of my homeless networkers. Perfect. I'm down to 2 cigarettes. However, I remember I promised I wouldn't get drugs... they're a drug. Fuck it... I'll get them later. I'm busy at the moment.

I arrive at the school after an achingly slow rate because I left early. I get to the school at 8:52. maybe he'll already be there. How should I get in? Just as I reach the entrance by the wall where I hid from Moriarty's gang and met John, the lights in the office turn on and the door opens. Apparently, that's I get in, then. I walk up to the door and as I walk through, one of Moriarty's co-workers grab my arm.

"Follow me."

"It's not like I have a say in this so, why not?" His grip on my arm doesn't leave me and he guides me into the gymnasium to when he finally lets go of me and shuts and locks the door behind him. It's dark and the only lights I can see is the street lights outside. I walk forward, taking long, slow, strides as I do. "What do you want then?!" I shout. "I received your little invitation and it looks like your 'friends' were expecting me. So, why not just... come out-" The lights turn on to reveal a person, my age, short. Not Moriarty. "John?" It's summer and he's wearing a large coat with fur on the inside. He's not cold... he's hiding something.

"Sherlock. It's been a fun game..." He has an earpiece on, I assume connected to Moriarty. "...but, here we have a dilemma. The king is in check, what's the king's move?" He looks sweaty and scared, his breathing is at a quick pace. He unzips his coat and pulls the sides away from him revealing a bomb. "Here is the problem. As you can see there is a bomb strapped-" John begins to stutter, refusing to say what the psychopathic boy is saying. He takes a deep breath in and out. "... strapped to your favourite, little, Johnny boy's chest. There are several out comes to this problem and I want to know if you can chose the right one." With that final sentence John takes off his coat and takes the earpiece off. I hear the storage room door open and Moriarty walking out.

"I gave you my number, I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 stuffed in your trousers or are you just happy to see me?" He smiles. I examine his person.

"Both. What about you? I see you have a bit of 'pleasure' in your trousers as well." We both draw our guns.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Sherlock. You couldn't see pleasure even if it came up to you and shot you in the head. That's why you have Johnny Boy and I can see why you keep him, army boy, right? I bet he's rough isn't he and,  _Oh Boy,_ is he packing more than just a pistol." He edges closer to John, breathing over his shoulder next to his cheek. "Do you get him to beg John? Or is it the other way round, does he get you on all fours~?"

"Stop it! Stop it now! What are you playing at?" I shout, John looks embarrassed and he shrinks into the bomb.

"Sorry, you got me distracted. How can I help it though, seeing John like this and you like that? It really cocks my pistol." He growls. "But, anyway, onto the game. Throw the gun down, there's no use for them. Where's the fun in that?" He throws his gun first and I tuck mine back into my pocket. "Now, you know why I'm doing this by now, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Go on then, humour me." He lies his head down on John's shoulder.

"You want to test me. You want to see whether I will leave John and save myself or die for John or save him, there are multiple out comes and multiple ways to find those out comes in a plethora of different ways. However, you are looking for just one in order to get what you want, the information you need."

"You really have been doing your homework, haven't you, Sherly? But, what do I want?" That is the question. What does he want? He doesn't want to kill us, he has too many plans to kill us now. He wants something from me, information. It must be something to do with John. No one else but, John... "Aw, you're slowing down on me, Sherlock. John, give him some motivation." John. John. What about John. 'Thank you, Sherlock. I can leave John alone now. You've made this easier.' The Woman. 'Trust me, John, the last thing I would do is give into sentiment to other people.' Sentiment. John. Sentiment towards John. Feelings for John Watson.

"You want to see if I really have sentiment towards John as The Woman told you I do." I blurt. "You want me to save him." 

"Good boy. I should give you a reward. I'm not going to kill John..." He backs away from John and puts his hands in the air showing he's unarmed. I run towards John and I try and undo the bomb with success and I slip the bomb away. 

"Are you all right, John?"

"Yeah- yeah I'm fine..." He sounds as if a massive weight has just been lifted off his lungs. 

"Aww this is touching. Expect to hear from me, Sherlock. You have my number, you know who to call. Just know that this game must end some time and I will be the one putting you in check mate. I better be off then. See you, later~~!" He walks past me and knocks a tune on the door and it is unlocked. John and I are left alone. John falls to the floor and lays on his back.

"I could've died... I could've died!" He cries into his hands.

"I'm so sorry, John. I didn't know this would happen."

"You know everything! You knew you needed to meet this son of a bitch here! You said he gave you an invitation! Did you want to see me get blown into fucking smithereens!?"

"No! John, why would I ever want that?! I don't hate you, I would never want to see you get hurt!" 

"Well, great job so far! How many times do you think I've been captured, forced to say fucked up things by a psychopath and almost blown to pieces, huh!?" 

"Well, I hope not a lot-"

"Don't be clever, Sherlock! Don't you dare even try to make this into a joke!"

"I'm not, okay?! I was scared, John! I thought I was going to lose my first friend- my only friend- m-my best friend! You think I'm that sadistic that I want to see my  _only_ friend die?! I was scared, for the first time in ages, I've been scared to the fact I can't function! John, I would never forgive myself, if you got hurt or worst! I would be worst than I am and I would probably be in a drug den, off my tits from meth and I'll probably die of an overdose, just so I could forget! So, don't you ever thing I would ever want to see you die! Or even think of the sight of it!" 

"Why would you care about someone so insignificant in your life!"

"Because you made yourself significant! You made yourself relevant and worth my protection!"

"... Why though, why did he come after me? Why- what have I done?" He asks, his eyes look up at me and I have no choice but to tell him.

"Because... he knows that you are important to me... he knows you are my weak point..."


	6. A new kind of sentiment

John and I haven't spoken after that night, it's been 2 days. The only point we've spoken was when I asked him if he wanted tea and then, he only gave me a hum in approval. I haven't seen Moriarty at school since, either, he's up to something and that has to be my main priority at the moment, not the social side of things, I must stay on track and in control. 

John had gone out at 6:46pm with Mike Stamford, 36 minutes ago now, and I have remained here, at 221b. I'm sitting on the black sofa reading the news paper and my phone in my hand refreshing my e-mails to see if anyone has e-mailed me any info. Girl died. Crash on motor way. Multiple killings, 3. Boring. Nothing interesting. 

"How's that news paper, Brother dear?" Mycroft steps into the room.

"God- Mycroft, go away."

"You've fallen out with John. That's not good, you have to go to therapy in two days time."

"No, we haven't fallen out, he's just... out with another friend. That doesn't mean we aren't going either."

"You're getting dragged down into sentiment, Brother, you're slipping~." He coos.

"Sit down if you're going to pester me." I sigh, throwing the news paper and phone to the floor.

"Thank you." He sits down in John's chair.

"Tea?"

"1 sugar. You miss him don't you?" I walk into the kitchen ignoring his comment. "I can understand why, it's such sweet sorrow when a faithful dog strays from his master." I slam the kettle switch on and it begins to rumble. 

"Why are you exactly here?" 

"Concerning you and John. You are getting close to him Sherlock."

"If you really want to get involved with relationships then, why not go and look for sentiment elsewhere because there is nothing amorous nor romantic going on between us in anyway."

"Say that to the time you slept with him." He smirks. 

"You knew what was going on at that time and he just wanted to help me!"

"You wanted help with something else, though." He says smugly as the kettle clicks off, I pour the water in the teapot, that is positioned on a tray as well as 2 saucers and twin teacups- one with one teaspoon full of sugar and the other with two- and a small pot of milk. I place 3 tea bags in the teapot and I grab 3 teaspoons; one to stir the teabags in the pot of tea and the other 2 for me and my brother for our cups.

"Hold on- how would you know anything about sentiment? Since when were you the 'Love Detector'?" I walk in and I place the tray on the table.

"Thank you. How would you know what isn't sentiment? Since when can you detect what isn't love?" He grabs his cup and saucer and pours the dilated tea and watches it mix with the sugar.

"I just do! I know that John doesn't even like me in that way and he never will." Mycroft chuckles as the milk flows into his cup.

"So... what you're saying is, you know that he has no feelings for you romantically but, you leave out your own feelings?"

"What about my  _feelings_? They aren't useful and irrelevant in helping with my school work, why listen to something that has already been muted?" I begin making my tea.

"Seems, then, the thing that has been muted is slowly turning up."

"That's why headphones exist, Brother." I snarl.

"Ok, think of it like this then. What if John loves you?"

"Why would I care?"

"You're missing what the point of the question, what if he does love you?"

"It wouldn't matter. I wouldn't care and it wouldn't effect me in any way." I stir my tea.

"It would with John."

"How? He doesn't like me anyway, why would he?" He laughs dryly.

"You are stupid aren't you? What has he done for you since you met him?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Answer the question."

"Take back what you said." I put my tea down.

"I can't take back what is evident. Prove to me you aren't and answer the question." 

"It's a useless question."

"Then, give me a useless answer."

"Why would it matter?"

"It's a simple question, just answer it and then, you can ask me a question."

"..."

"Come on." He prompts.

"...Fine. He has helped me when I was high, he made sure I wasn't doing drugs when I left the house the other evening, he agreed to go to the therapy session with me, he offered to help me by saying he would be my doctor, he stood up for me, he made sure I was eating." I mumble into my cup.

"And all this adds up to the signs of...?"

"... My turn to ask you a question; you promised." 

"Ugh- we were getting somewhere. Ok, ask away." He sips his tea.

"How are things with Lestrade?"

"What a waste of a question, you could've asked anything and you chose that?"

"Of course, answer it."

"There's nothing to answer, I speak to him sometimes, nothing more."

"Oh get off it- I see how you look at him."

"How do you know what love is, you're too dumb to understand the concepts of it."

"How do you know what love is, you're too alone to understand the concepts of it."

"I'm not lonely."

"How would you know."

"..." We don't speak for a while, we have a moments of silence. We both finish our tea in that time. Mycroft gets up and stands for a couple of seconds and begins to speak.

"Just be careful because the longer you love him the stronger it will become and the stronger it becomes the easier it'll be for him to hurt you." He walks away without another word. The door shuts. 

I know I'm slipping up, I can't love him. I don't love him. The front door from down stairs opens, it's John. He walks up the stairs slowly and before long, he opens the door. 7:43.

"Hello, Sherlock."

"Hello, John." It is awkward.

"I-... Sherlock, I want to say, I forgive you. I understand now, after spending some time with Stamford, that I know you aren't that kind of man. No matter how bad you may seem to the public, you aren't a bad lad."

"Thank you, I'm glad you have understood what happened now." I cant deal with this. I feel so much pain in my chest. I feel like I'm drowning.

"You had a friend round?" He looks at the tea.

"Oh... just Mycroft."

"What did he want; you never talk to him unless it's imperative."

"Nothing just idle chit chat. Discussing Moriarty." I lie.

"Oh, want me to cook some food for us? I went shopping the other day so, we should have some stuff in."

"Actually, I was just about to go out after I cleaned up the cups."

"I can do it for you, if you want. I don't mind." He smiles, picking up the tray.

"Are you sure?"

"Mhmhh."

"Also, I have therapy in a couple of days, you still up to going with me."

"Yeah, I remembered. Mycroft told me yesterday. Yes, I'll still be there."

"Thank you. Anyway, I'll be back later." I get up and head for the door and I grab my wallet and a hat, forgetting about my coat and scarf. 

"What about your coat?!" John calls after me. I ignore him. I get to the door downstairs and I exit after hearing Mycroft call after me. It's cold but, I need to find Bill or someone. I can't get drugs this time, I promised John... why would I care what I promised John?! Anyway, I don't think drugs will cut it this time. Cut, yes, cut. I'll just buy a sharpener and I can then unscrew the blade but, it's too cold to stay out here. John and Mycroft will come looking for me and I don't want that but, why would they care? I will head home as soon a I buy it, my bedroom should suffice. My height does a great roll in making the clerk think I'm older and my fake ID will throw them off completely. I managed to get one from a drug dealer I saved from getting arrested back when I was in year 8. He was in a lot of trouble and I had my ways in getting him out of it so, he had one of his buyers get me a fake ID as a 'thank you'.

I see the off-licence, I walk in putting my hat ne, and I discretely grab a bottle of whiskey and stationary kit. I reach the desk where the clerk is working. Tired. Has girlfriend. Father died. Mother is a care-worker. No siblings. 37 years old.

"licence, please." And just like that, I walk out the shop with the whiskey and stationary. I make my way back to the flat. Eventually, I arrive back at 221b. I slam the door behind me and I head up the stairs. I enter the flat and I check the clock, 7:58. John is in his chair eating instant noodles. 

"You alright, Sherlock?" He asks with noodles in his mouth.

"Mhmhh."

"I made you some as well, they're in the microwave. I had to move some eyes out of there but, I put them in the fridge for you." How will I get around this? Think. Ok, to avoid being suspicious, I'm going to have to eat the noodles and then, I can retire to my room. I keep the alcohol hidden behind my back. "What did you get?"

"Oh, I ran out of stationary so, I just ran to the shops and bought some."

"Do you need the sharpener by any chance?"

"Why do you ask?" Shit. Does he know?

"Yeah, well, I was with Anderson during lesson and he kinda, stole mine." He chuckles.

"I'll get it back, don't worry. I do need the sharpener, though."

"That's ok. I could just borrow yours at school."

"Mhmhh." I walk into the kitchen and I put the alcohol in the fridge and I retrieve the noodles.

"When I was with Stamford, guess what he asked me."

"What did he ask?" I sit in my chair.

"'Do you love Sherlock?'" He laughs and I smile at him.

"What did you say?"

"'Who doesn't?'" He laughs again.

"Ha. Seriously, what did you say?"

"I'm not joking."

"Oh..."

"You don't think I hate you, do you?" He smiles.

"No, of course I don't."

"You do don't you?"

"Maybe, but, the only reason is because no body likes me."

"Jesus, Sherlock, I've told you millions of times, you are my friend and that I care about you."

"I know, I know." 

"Listen, I love you, Sherlock. That won't change, ok?"

"Yes, yes, I know... wait- "... Sorry, can you repeat that?" John puts his head in his hands and moans.

"A-ahahaha..." He laughs embarrassedly. "I- uh- I said I'm your friend."

"Bullshit." I laugh. "What did you say John."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Say what you said."

"No- I didn't- I slipped up on my words." I inhale deeply and I get up, slamming my noodles on the table. 

"Give me a minute." I walk to the fridge, I take out the whiskey and I grab a glass. I return back to John and his eyes widened. "I bought this as well."

"How?!" 

"Shut up. I will have some shots and then you can get it all off your chest and I won't remember it tomorrow. Then, you won't live with the embarrassment because you obviously didn't mean to say it." I unscrew the lid.

"You don't have to do that! That's going to far!" 

"Nothing is too far unless, you lose sight on why you're doing it."

"... Sherlock don't."

"I know just the amount it will take until I will forget tomorrow. 4- 5 glasses. So, begin." I pour my first glass full and I swallow half of it down. "Wow, good stuff. Come on spit it out." I drink the rest of the glass and I pour another one.

"I-I can't..." 

"Oh, go on." I gulp another mouthful. "Take a deep breath and just... let it out." It's kicking in faster than I thought.

"..." I gulp another one down.

"Go on, some time today would be good."

"I-..." He pauses. It's so funny and adorable, hehe. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes. I have done for ages now and I can't begin to explain how long I've wanted to say this."

"Mmmmm... yes." I reply with the cup in my mouth swallowing more of the intoxicating drink. This is perfect, I wanted to get drunk tonight and I wanted to know what John's feelings are, win, win. Third cup.

"I want you to know how much I love you because you are so kind and so helpful and you are always there for me and I will always be there for you. You probably don't like me back because of how many times I have fallen out with you but, it was because I was scared. I was scared of you rejecting me and only using me only for the fact that you had to."

"Love you too, John." I get through the other drink. Four!

"You're saying that because you're drunk. I really love you, Sherlock..."

"Mhhhhhh... you should try this John, it's good stuff." I sip from my cup

"I can't, Sherlock, I'm too young."

"And you're only young once, give it a try. Just one."

"Sherlock, I can't."

"Just one, John, it won't kill you~."

"One."

"That's my John." He takes the cup from my hands and swallows the remainders of what I hadn't already drunk, he scrunches his nose at it. So cute, heheh. "Can't handle it~~? Hehe."

"God, you're a light weight, aren't you?"

"No going back now." I take the glass off him. Next cup.

"Ok, no more now." He takes my cup and bottle awayyyyy, nooooooo.

"Johnnnnnn, nooooooo!" 

"No more." He walks away with the glass. Awwwwwww. He makes me sad. Hmmmmmm... lemme try something. Hehe.

"John~~~!!!" 

"What is it, Sherlock?" I get up to find him.

"Come here."

\--------*John's POV*--------

"Come here." He comes in front of me and towers over me.

"What do you want?" Damn his height, why is it he gets to be 5"5 and I have to be 5"2... it's not fair.

"Stay still." He puts his hands on my cheeks and they descends down to my neck and then to my shoulders.

"Not this again..." I groan.

"Shhhh, shush... shshshsh." He shushes. His right hand raps around my waist and his left hand grabs my hand. He intertwines his fingers with mine, keeping them lowered. He backs me against the counter and brings his hand, that is holding mine, above my head and he pushes it against the cabinets. He keeps his grip on my waist.

"... This isn't you Sherlock." He leans his head and rests it on my shoulder and mumbles into my ear.

"No... this is the me I supress, John. Are you scared?"

"Of course not but, you're acting different."

"You should be." He says deeply. It sends shivers throughout my body and causes goose bumps to wave over me. He looks at me dead in the eyes.

"We need to stop this, Sherlock." I whisper.

"Do you not want this?" He smiles.

"You're drunk, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson are down stairs."

"Do you not want this?" He repeats.

"You know what I'm going to say and that's why you're asking this, stop it."

"Do. You. Want. This?" He seems to have a more darker look in his eyes.

"...Yes but, Sherlock, later."

"When will later be?"

"Tomorrow? The day after? I don't know just, not now..."

"The problem is, that's not now." I feel something rising in my trousers.

"No, Sherlock, my answer is no. I can't. You need to sleep."

"Not without you." He chuckles. I push him away and I look down to check my trousers... shit. Hold on- he's the same. No, don't get distracted. Footsteps. Who's footsteps? Shit, ah, what do I do?! 

"Sherlock, go to bed, please. Come on."

"Mmmmm. not tired."

"Sure you're not... to bed now." I start pushing him towards his bedroom, damn it, we need to fix his door. I push him onto his bed. I hear the door knock. "One moment please!" I quickly rush back into the lounge and I sit onto my chair however, I notice my 'problem.' SHIT- what do I do to hide this, uh uh uh uh uh... news paper! I grab the newspaper and I put it on my lap. "Come in!" The person opens the door to reveal, Mycroft. "What are you doing up here so late?"

"Hello to you too, John. I came to return Sherlock's phone. He ran out earlier and I was going to return it then however, I became distracted and so, here I am. Where is he?"

"Why do you have his phone?" I cough.

"Just needed to borrow it." He smiles. "Where is he?"

"Uh, asleep."

"Liar."

"What- I'm not!" 

"Why do you look so unsettled then? Something startled you?" 

"Not at all, I'm fine."

"Johnnnnnnn!!!" I hear Sherlock shout from his room.

" _Asleep_." Mycroft looks at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Just give his phone back." He walks over to me.

"Ah, the news paper, mind if I have a look?"

"No, I'm reading it!"

"Just a quick brows. Don't worry, I'm not going to infect it." He chuckles.

"No, I- uh- give Sherlock his phone if he's awake."

"You're hiding something. If this wasn't a convenient time then, it could've waited till the morning."

"No, this is perfectly fine. Just give me his phone and I'll give it him."

"Of course." He walks towards me and stretches his hand out with the phone in question in it. I grasp it and before I know, Mycroft took the newspaper. He looks at me and begins to snigger.

"This might look bad, Mycroft, I know what your thinking and you have incorrect data." I defend.

"No wonder Sherlock isn't asleep." He laughs. "This is twice now, John, you seriously need to control yourself."

" _Hahaha_." I mimic. "For someone who is supposed to be the elder brother you're quite childish."

"John! Where are youuuuu?!" He slurs.

"Is he drunk or something?" He giggles.

"The matter of fact, yes, yes he is."

"You can't be serious." He slows down laughing.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" 

"No you look like your hard but, either will do." He smiles.

"Enough of that, Sherlock is drunk in his bedroom go look for yourself." He walks into Sherlock's bedroom. I follow him as I walk in I see Sherlock standing up on the bed and taking off his clothes.

"Sherlock, keep your clothes on." Mycroft groans.

"Too hot." He whines back as he takes off his trousers. Mycroft looks back at me. 

"How did he get like this?" Uhhhhh... I can't just tell him I confessed, that wouldn't look right at all...

"He came back drunk."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No." I defend. 

"Hmm... he might need that therapy more than anything. You have to go with him even if you're not finished with your argument now."

"It wasn't an argument and I'm going with him anyway."

"Good, I worry about him... constantly. Come on, Sherlock, get into bed." He grabs the drunk boy's hand and lowers him down. He picks the covers up for Sherlock and he then places the sheet on top of him. And just like that Sherlock settles down to sleep.

"I can look after him. I am capable." I reply.

"I know but, that's what I fear the most. Never mind, get some sleep and sort out your problem as I think seeing Sherlock like that has probably made you worst. I'll be taking my leave now. Good night, Mr. Watson."

"Good night, Mycroft." He walks away and I hear the door shut and the foot steps descending down the stairs.  _Oh Sherlock._ I walk over to the sleeping boy and I sit next to him. I put my hand in Sherlock's hair, it's so soft and curly, I love it.

"Mmm I love you... John." He mumbles.

"Heh, I love you too, you pillock." I smile. I can't believe he's set me off like this, my erection is getting better but, not at the same time. I need to sort myself out, Jesus... I'm so disgusting, liking my room mate in this way isn't right! It's dirty and wrong and lewd and IM TOO YOUNG!! I just want him so much, it hurts, it hurts me to know that I can never have him yet, he got himself drunk just for me... if that isn't commitment then, I don't know what is. But, still, that doesn't mean he loves me. I just want him, to be mine, even if he would rather have a drink and some drugs instead of me, behind all of that there's me, wanting him... when will he see that? Maybe he did what he did more so, for himself rather than, for me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, if this is a bit shit and messy, I'm working hard on progressing the story and the plot. Just bare with me. Thanks for reading so far. THERE IS MORE TO COME.


	7. This Escalated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this took a while but, it is here!

Fuck... my head... I feel so dizzy, I feel sick and tired. My eyes are heavy as I open them, my vision is blurred and unclear. I'm in my bed. How? I only remember going out last night to the shops for... uh I think booze and... what's the time?... Where is my phone?! I need to find it. I get up out my bed and walk through the broken door frame to eventually look in the living room. I check the clock on the mantelpiece, 6:41am, why this early? Oh well, can't dwell on that, I need my phone. Uhh... where did I see it last... I was with Mycroft? He could've taken my phone, highly likely, as I wouldn't have misplaced it myself. So, he would've gave it back after he did what he needed to do... and because I was intoxicated, due to the signs I have of a hang over, the other person he would give it to is John.

John's room. He's not the cleanest of boys, considering he has father, who is apart of the military. I tread on a few of John's clothes while trying to get to his bed. After tripping over one or two of his things, I get to his bedside table where I see my phone; it's flashing. I have a message. John in nothing but his pants... interesting... anyway I should sort him out. MY PHONE out, my phone out- sort my phone out... yes that's what I meant. I'll also make John some tea while I'm at him-it! IT! OBJECT! IT! This is cringe even for me... I really have stooped to a new low of thinking lewd things about my flatmate.

I plug my phone in, in the kitchen and I click the kettle on. It smells strongly as instant noodles, ah 2 bowl that used to be filled with them... delicious. Also, I spot my whiskey I must've bought last night, no wonder I cant remember, its almost empty. As the kettle proceeds to do it's job, I check my phone. Message from: The Woman.

TW _: Would you like to have dinner sometime? *9 hours ago*_

_Me: I'm not hungry. SH_

I turn my phone off. Why would she want me to have dinner with her, she's being stupid. Sentiment doesn't show someone is strong, it only heightens their weakness and insecurities. It is only ever found on the losing side of things. The kettle clicks done and the water is left boiling. I'll make one for John as well, he'll be up soon anyway. 

I finish making the two cups of tea and head into John's room to find him awake on his phone. 

"Good morning." I say, putting the tea on his bed side table.

"Hey. What wakes you up so early?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"The same reason you woke up, my eyes decided to open, causing my body to become active and aware. Also, I couldn't keep asleep, I'm not sure what happened last night, I think I might have had too much to drink or something."

"Ah- well..." He grabs his tea and sips it. "You have therapy tomorrow so, we can sort this out." 

"Ughhhhh, it's not going to sort anything out, John! There's no need for me to go, no person can make me any different to how I am now."

"Just do it, it won't take a lot of effort, it's only an hour session."

"Every other fortnight?" I place my tea on the table.

"Once every week." He sips his tea again.

"This is torture. Each month I'm going to be at least 4 hours closer to death." I fall onto John's bed, planting my face into the bed.

"You not dying any time soon, not while you're going to attend it."

"Then, I think those 4 hours closer need to come sooner." I groan into the sheets. John huffs and changes the subject.

"Tomorrow is school, right?"

"Yep." I sigh, flipping myself over to lie on my back.

"Brilliant, do you reckon Moriarty will be at school?"

"Unlikely."

"How do you know?" 

"I know him better than anyone else... I've known him long enough. Breakfast?"

"Starving." I can tell John is feeling off, he doesn't look like himself, he looks... tense. I get up and begin to exit however, I pause.

"Are you ok? You appear distracted. There's something on your mind. Don't say there isn't because I know you're lying."

"It's nothing, just a thought you know, nothing to worry about. I'm probably just tired"

"You're lying again. Only lies are explained with a reason. You can tell me, could it be to do with yesterday?"

"No, no."

"It is. What happened, I must've drank too much please, explain what happened. My memory can only serve me to a certain extent... I can remember faintly, having some food with you and judging by the smell in the kitchen, it was noodles. Also, there is some whiskey on the counter, almost empty. I must've eaten in the lounge because that is where my bowl remained. So, enlighten me."

"You just became a little drunk, that's all." 

"Liar."

"I don't want to talk about it, Sherlock."

"Did I start being weird again?"

"Kind of, yes, a bit."

"I doubt that's the only thing that happened however, forgive me, I will try to restrain myself next time. If there is a next time."

"It's ok, no worries." 

"Thank you, John." I turn to make my leave.

"Sherlock?" I pause.

"yeah."

"Put some clothes on." I look down, oh god. 

"Hah, I forgot about that. So, that's why you were distracted." I smirk.

"What- NO!"

"I'm joking, Watson!" I call from the kitchen. My phone if flashing, again. Moriarty.

_Moriarty: I need to have a meeting with you, Sherlock. This time it will be without Watson, body guards, guns, bombs or anything like that. Just me and you, only, me and you. I'll expect you at the abandoned youth club, down the road from your house. Let's just have a chat. JM_

_Me: Why should I trust you? SH_

I put my phone down however, it vibrates again quickly.

_Moriarty: If I wanted to kill you or Johnny boy, I would've already done it. Come on. 5:30 pm sharp. JM_

I put my phone down. This is interesting.

 

5:10pm.

 

"Why are you dressing up so smartly?" John asks, leaning against my door frame.

"Out with Stamford and Lestrade." I lie.

"Where to?" He doesn't look convinced.

"Just to the park and maybe we'll get a drink or something at the off-licence."

"Oh?"

"What?"

"Well, you being this sociable with people, it's not like you."

"If I want to prove to you that I don't need therapy then, making some changes won't hurt."

"I see... well, enjoy it. Come back whenever, just not too late, ok?"

"Naturally, I could never worry my fragile friend, John Watson."

"Right." He rolls his eye. "I, most likely, won't go out so, want me to wait up?"

"It's up to you."

"I'll wait then." He smiles.

"Yes, ok. See you later." I spray some after-shave and I put my coat and scarf on. 

"Hold on, Sherlock!" He calls.

"No time, Watson."

"Wait, Sherlock, now." I sigh and stop. He walks towards me until stood in front of me; he's so short. "Your tie, it's messy, can you not tie, ties?" He chuckles.

"No... I'm just... in a rush."

"Hehe, well, I'll fix it." He starts doing my tie up and pats it when he's finished. "There. Much better." He smiles.

"Thank you, now, I must go."

"Bye." I hear him call as I rush down the stairs and exit the house. Ok, I have my knife in case he tries anything. The air is quite warm to night, that's unusual for Britain, not that I have any complaints. This is weird, though, maybe he wants to talk about the woman to me but, what information did she collect and why are they obsessed with me and John? They're probably trying to get to me.

I arrive at the youth club to where I see Moriarty sitting on the sofa. I enter the building.

"Hello." I greet him.

"Sherlock. So, so, _so_ glad you arrived. It's very touching." He smiles sincerely.

"No problem at all." I say sarcastically.

"Give me the knife." He changes his tone, stretching his arm out.

"Why?"

"Because we both know you don't want to kill me. So, just give me the knife; we promised." I hesitantly give him the knife and he kisses it. "Thank you, Mr. Trust Issues." He giggles and walks outside to throw the knife away somewhere in the field. "Done!" He says enthusiastically, returning to me. "You're very obedient, such a good boy. Take a seat." I sit down onto the sofa he was sitting on. I take off my coat and scarf.

"Why are we here?" I ask.

"To chat, of course, is it illegal for enemies to talk, now?"

"It should be if, it's with you. The only place you should be talking to me in, is behind bars." I shrug.

"Such harsh words. Hell would work better for me, though. As I know, we'll both end up there."

"However, you will be ending up in hell earlier than me, prison is much easier because then, I could see you before that inevitable day."

"Eh, it's more likely I'll be in hell before, I end up in prison."

"Either way, it will be me, who will be putting you there."

"Which, Hell or prison?"

"Whichever comes first."

"Perfect!" He shouts in glee. "Now, let's chat about something else. Hum~? Ah! I know." He sits down next to me and puts his hand on my thigh. "Let's talk about you."

"You know small talk is awfully tedious." I groan, removing his hand from my leg. "Keep your hands to yourself."

"I can't, how could I stop myself?"

"Maybe a restraining order, might suffice?"

"Easily gotten out of."

"Straitjacket then."

"Moving on, I heard, you cannot feel sexual desire from females. Is that true?"

"... Apparently so." I reply bluntly.

"Right so, what about males?" He smirks.

"I am unaware..."

"Oh yes, you wouldn't know, would you? Johnny is making you work for it, huh? So sad."

"And you care because...?"

"I can help you figure this out. The problem, Sherlock Holmes, cannot solve... himself." He looks at me with dark eyes, he looks almost, threatening.

"By that you mean?"

"Allow me to give you a demonstration." He sighs. Before I know it he's pressing his lips against mine. Hard, rough. It feels intriguingly wrong . He grabs my hand and wraps around his back, trying to deepen the kiss. He moves his body to sit on my lap, wrapping his legs around my waist. Just like that night with... John. John. This isn't John but, I can't show Moriarty that I want him. I want John... this wouldn't ruin mine and John's friendship or my chances with him... will it? I feel like I'm betraying him, like I'm enjoying Moriarty's touch more than I would with John, am I being unfaithful? No, we aren't even going out... but, I want to-O

He licks my mouth and puts his tongue into my mouth, tangling mine with his. His hands travel down to my trousers and puts his hand under them and caresses the outside of my boxers. This isn't right, I don't want him in the way I want John. However, the way he's moving his fingers is so... good... no, this is wrong! I can't! I push his hand out of my trousers and I pull away from him, both of us panting. He wipes his mouth and smiles in satisfaction.

"You wanted to stop? Were you thinking of Johnny? I bet you feel so bad for getting hard because of me and losing your first kiss to me and not John." He chuckles breathlessly. I calm my breathing down. Maybe, John would look as much of a mess, if I were to kiss him, as Moriarty looks now. Imagine that, John sweaty, panting, wanting, needing. Nggg! What is that feeling?! … and … that's new... "I would say that I should get going however, leaving you in this state wouldn't be very kind, would it?" He looks down in-between my legs at a thing sticking up from my trousers. 

"I have to get back to John..." I protest. What even is going on with me?!

"I did this mainly to gain the information needed, which I've collected effortlessly. However, if you would like me to help you, I'm happy to do so." He sounds bored, almost as if I was no pleasure what so ever. How dare he think I am disappointing, he thinks I'm not man enough! I shove him on his back and I pin him down.

"Don't you dare patronise me, Moriarty. There will be serious consequences from that."

"What? Are you going to tap me on the wrist and call me a 'naughty boy'?" He coos.

"No." I get up and grab my coat and scarf. "I'll get rid of you once and for all." I wrap my scarf around my neck.

" _Awww_ , not even one kiss to say goodbye?" He puckers his lips tauntingly.

"Nope." I put my coat on.

"You  _are_ cruel, aren't you? I like it." He jeers.

"Sure, see you later." This is unbearably uncomfortable! I need some kind of help but, how?! This never happened before. Fucking, Moriarty! I exit quickly, running back home. Quick, run home, I need to find help. Maybe John would know what to do. I eventually, arrive home. I stumble on my keys while trying to unlock the door. I race up the stairs and enter the flat, shutting the door behind me. "John?" I call.

"Oh, hi, Sherlock. You're back early?" He greets me, he's sitting on his chair on his laptop.

"John, I need your advise, I have no idea what to do." I say out of breath. 

"Woah- ok, what's wrong? Did something go wrong?" He turns to look at me.

"You could say that." I lift my coat up to reveal my 'problem.'

"Uh... what?" He smiles confused. "Your jacket?"

"Look down." I moan.

"Your buttons?"

"You're being dumb now, John. Look at my crotch!"

"Sherlock!" He shouts in embarrassment and a tinge of anger.

"Oh get over yourself, John! Just look for god sake!" I snap. His eyes drop to my trousers and immediately chokes back a laugh. 

"You were only out with Stamford and Lestrade, what happened?" He asks in amusement.

"Nothing, it just kind of happened. What do I do? What is this?"

"Have you never had an erection before?" He gets up, putting his laptop down on the floor.

"I've heard of them but, no, I have not."

"Didn't you listen in sex ED?" 

"Well, yes but, I deleted some it. I had no use for it! I know some aspects to it, such as male on female, female on female, male on male and areas of the body and sexual organs but, the rest isn't significant to my brain. I don't plan on having sex anytime soon or ever, I only act, if my body does something like this shit."

"Sherlock..." He chuckles as he exhales. "Honestly, you need to know these things."

"Well, I'm  _sorry,_ just tell me how I can fix this."

"... google it. I'm not explaining it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. I don't want to be explaining sex with my roommate."

"Are you embarrassed?" I smirk.

"No, I just rather not talk about it."

"Yep, that's what embarrassment is, John. Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm your best friend. I am in need of some assistance, I would help you too, even if it is this situation. It is aching, I need some kind of thing to help this rising feeling. Google won't give me release." I see John groan and sigh heavily. "Please."

"Fine... Ok."

"Thank you. Just before you explain, why did this just happen, I didn't feel like I was getting any stimulation to cause this..."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because sometimes they can occur when thinking about something or someone that they find sexually arousing."

"Ah, ok. Anyway, continue. Explain how I can get rid of it."

"What you need to do, is to... cause friction on your penis... and keep the contact up until, you feel close to coming and eventually, do so."

"How do I know if I've came?"

"You'll have sperm coming out of your penis and the tension will be no longer there."

"Ok, so, how do I lead to that from friction?"

"With your hand. Rub it."

"How?"

"Are you seriously making me also go into masturbation?"

"Masturbation?"

"Oh my god." He starts laughing nervously.

"Can't you just show me?"

"Sherlock, you technically either asked me to have sex with you or masturbate in front of you. For someone as smart as you, you can be incredibly thick. I can't tell you how to have sex or how you will or won't like it, you just have to let your instincts... flow." 

"I'm not thick. And… that's bad? I wouldn't want anyone else to help me. I, in fact, …" Come on say it, he'll help you if you say it. You'll get the release you need. "I  _want_ you. I need you."

"You're drunk." 

"No I'm not! I'm as sober as ever!"

"Follow my finger." He waves his finger from side to side. I follow it as instructed. "Let me smell your breath."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you wouldn't want me."

"I wouldn't be asking you to help me or say 'I want you' if I didn't."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, as serious as I can be." He stands there processing the information. "John? Hello?"

"You wouldn't, couldn't and can't want this from me, of all people." He laughs sadly.

"Of course I would, could and can want you, John. I, in fact, need you. More than anything, to the point that it's becoming a terrible inconvenience." This is a quick turn of events to sentiment. We keep quiet for a while, both of us contemplating on what to do next. "Even if it's just tonight, just show me, let me feel something more than drugs and booze, let me feel you. I do find that I'm in need of a closer view of the human body and its functions and what better way to do so than, to have full contact with one. Let me explore you, John."

He says nothing. He's thinking.

"Please John."

"...If we are going to do this, let's at least start off slow..."

"Of course, slow means I will have you longer." I walk to him, slipping my coat off and then, my scarf. My right hand reaches his stomach and it snakes to his back, tracing over his curves. My other hand does the same however, lower; his hip. My left hand is cupped gently on his ass. I pull him closer, pushing his body against mine, sharing our body heats. His hands wrap around my neck, bringing our faces closer, closer still, until I feel his breath upon my skin. I admire his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his neck, all of him. He is so unique and I want to explore every part of him. Before I know it, our lips attach and we start slowly kissing until, the kiss becomes more wanting and hungry and I accidentally moan into John's mouth. He doesn't seem to care, he seems like he enjoyed it more than anything. Interesting, stimulation to unspoken praise and noises. The way our bodies are positioned isn't enough for me, I need to explore more. I pick him up and carry him into my room and he lies down on my bed and I tower over him, kissing him again. Eventually, our tongues intertwine and I begin unbuttoning his shirt and I force it to come off. He shuffles his trousers off at the same time. I exit the kiss to look at him. 

"God, you're beautiful, John. You're perfect." I praise, reaction? He reattaches our lips and I see his hips grinding up and down, needing contact. Definite reaction. I take off my tie and shirt.He wraps his arms and legs around me and pulls me onto him further so, he can get more friction. I lower my kisses down to his jaw and then, to his shoulder and soon to his stomach; everyone has a soft spot; I need to find his. His moans are music, they are amazing, I want to hear more of them. I want him to scream my name, to beg me for more. Control yourself, Sherlock, focus. I move back up to his head; his ear, sensitive. I lean next to his ear and I lick his ear lobe and I nip at it. I breathe down his ear and the reaction I received is amazing. He is whining and his hips thrusted up as soon as I breathed; sweet spot found. I move back down and begin kissing. He is in his underwear and I, in just my trousers, something isn't quite real about this, I need to ask John for his consent. "Are you sure you want this, John?" I stop kissing him and he relaxes on the bed, breathless. "What if this can't work out, what if we become too attached?" He breathes out heavily and smiles lightly.

"I want you, Sherlock. We will work it out." He cups my cheek.

"But, we are young, John."

"Does that stop you from drinking and taking drugs?"

"Well, no but, that's different."

"You are my drug, Sherlock Holmes, and I just need one dose."

"I'll ask again then, in case I heard incorrectly. Do you want this?"

"Yes." I lean down and kiss him again. I mumble into his lips.

"Let's get on with it then." I begin kissing his neck, nipping at a bit of skin. Then, I suck, hard. He moans and grips me harder. I keep sucking, with my teeth and coating it with some saliva. He's so delicious. I look at my handy work, yes, my John. My mark meaning he's mine. No, he isn't mine, remember, friends. I kiss the spot where I had been sucking and John shudders. My right hand travels down his body and stops at his waist band on his trousers, I lift up the band and I let go, allowing it to snap against John's lower abdomen. He moans with pain and pleasure. My fingers snake under the band and I can feel John's hard, throbbing member, in my hand. 

"God- ah... Sherlock, please! Please, I need you, please!" He pleads, I kiss his forehead and chuckle.

"All in good time, my Dear Watson." I remove my hand; he moans to the loss of contact. I unwrap his legs and arms that had chained around my body. "I have no lube so, I can't exactly explore in you now, can I?"

"How do you know we need lube?"

"I just... do." 

"... Let's talk about this later, it's killing the mood a little."

"Oh, am I not sexy or sensual enough for you?"

"Oh, definitely not, you are extremely sexy however, I would like to have a bit more... I don't know, action?" He smiles, as he leans on his elbows. I just look at him, unamused. "What did I say somffh-" I shove my left-hand's- fingers into his mouth and I press onto his tongue. 

"Suck." I command and he does as told. I slide my hand down into John's boxers again. He moans into my fingers. I trace my finger on his member and then, I proceed to grab it. He bites my fingers and he huffs and groans. I start moving my hand up and down, slowly. I keep stroking him and he keeps moaning; and oh god! I love it. "Is this enough  _action?_ " I coo. He hums in approval. I keep stoking slowly, very slowly. However, his moans start become less frequent. I speed up pumping him harder. His moans are louder and are so amazing.I apparently have stimulant to moans well, John's moans. The feel of him, is actually... arousing.

"Ah! Yes! Sherlock! Please! I need to- I need to-!" He cries, muffled by my fingers, I curve my hand around his mouth- I don't want Mrs Hudson and or Mycroft to hear. I keep pumping him until, a muffled moan comes from him and his hips buck upwards into my hand, he has hit climax. I feel the boy's liquid flow down the head of his cock and onto my hand. He is breathing rapidly and his hips continue to buck into my hand, trying to pump more and more out of him. I kiss him gently, easing him down. 

"You are so amazing. You did so well, I'm so proud of you." I breathe out. He just lays on the bed, breathless and just coming down from his high. I'm know praising him is the best thing to help him. Just watching him is making me on the verge of coming. I remove my hand from his underwear to find my hand coated in his body fluid. "John?"

"Hum?" He pants.

"What does this taste like?"

"Cum? Well, I don't know."

"Do you mind if I try it?" I look at it expand into a long, thin string as I extend my index finger away from my thumb.

"Go ahead but, you really don't have to." I lick my finger and I lick off, it taste sweet and salty but, nice. It tastes of John and that's why I love it. I lick the rest of it off yet, I crave for more. John tries to sit up but, I push him back down again. "What are you doing Sherlock?" I pull his pants off.

"I want more." 

"But, what about you?"

"To hell with me! Me, later; you, now." I run my finger along his cock and it's still painted with his semen, perfect! I lean down and lick along the head of it all the way to his pubic hairs. He is squirming above me and I feel his hands grab my head, I keep licking in stripes. Until, I move my head down and take John into my mouth. His hands grip into my hair. 

"God- Sherlock. No! I can't, not again- you need... shit... you need to cum now." I ignore him and I continue, I move my hands to land onto his chest. I find one of his nipples and begin touching it, twisting it. He moans and gives into the pleasure of my contact and attention so, I give him what he wants. I speed up my pace, his grip tightens on my hair and his moans more loud. Too loud. I stop and move up close to his face.

"If this is to work, please quiet yourself. Here..." I grab my shirt and I place it into his mouth. "Quiet now, we don't want anyone hearing, do we?" He moans into the shirt and his hips try and search for some kind of friction. Jesus- no patience. "Give me an answer." He nods his head rapidly, squeezing his eyes shut. "Was that a yes, John?" He nods faster and he shouts a muffled 'yes' multiple times. I smile at his compliance and get back to work. I work my way back down to his hard cock and I slowly regain my position I had before. After I found the right position, I continue my job. I hear his rapid heaving and his dark, low groans. I speed up while caressing his thigh as well to which, he seems to love. Eventually, I take him over the edge and it takes me to the climax as well. I choke back my moan by gulping it back yet, John fails to make an effort to be quiet, no surprise there. I think we'll be fine, my shirt made a lot of difference with his volume. His breathing is fast paced and as I lick off the rest of his fluids. I get myself back up next to him and I lie next to him, my breathing appears to be calming slowly. He turns to me, still panting into my shirt, and I lift my arm up so, he can come for a hug to which, he moves closer and wraps his arms around me, as do I.

"I was supposed to help you..." He mumbles sleepily.

"You did, don't worry about me." I kiss him on the head.

"But the whole reason we actually did this was for you." 

"Well, then, do this for me then... promise me a next time." I smirk.

"Now that's a difficult decision... ok, you have a deal." He smiles back at me and sits up. We stay in silence for a bit. "We should get cleaned up. We're all sweaty and we smell like sex." He laughs.

"Yes…" I close my eyes. "Possibly... but, John?"

"Yeah?" He asks, grabbing his underwear.

"How will we go about this? I can't get into a relationship because, as much as I would love to do that, I can't get attached to people as you know I have enemies; Moriarty etc..." He pulls his underwear the rest of the way up and sits back down on the bed.

"Well, we can keep it in the friendship."

"... In the friendship- John, last time I checked, 'natural friends' don't want to do these things with each other."

"Some friends do."

"What kind of friends do that?"

"Friends with benefits."

"God, that sounds like the most idiotic thing..." I look at John, he's looking back at me with one of his disapproving looks. "... however, it fits our situation perfectly. We just have to put some rules down."

"Rules?"

"Yes. Like, no signs of love affection if we are in a public place. We, more like you, can have relationships with other people without either of us being jealous. No hard feelings if we are unable to actually go out. And finally, we keep doing what we did today because honestly, I thoroughly enjoy seeing all of your beautiful body and I do find your moans delightful and there is more to your body I wish to look at and try." 

"I can agree with all of them, if you can." 

"It's settled then." I spring up from off the bed and pick John up from off the bed to carry him.

"Put me down, you twat." He laughs yet, making no effort to get down.

"You want to clean up don't you? I find no trouble in helping you with that, even if my schedule is extremely full, I can spear a couple more hours of time for you." I walk into the bathroom with him and I place him in the bath.

"Maybe, I could help you too, perfect opportunity." He smiles.

"We'll see..." I smile shutting the bathroom door. Time for some best friend fun.


End file.
